Oh good Lord, kat, I'd have been certifiable with that many critters on a long move!

Worst cat move I ever had was a short one, just a few km. Three cats, one boyfriend, and a rented 3 ton truck boyfriend thought he could drive as handily as he did his motorcycle. House I was regretfully moving out of was a lovely old place with a huge dying oak right next the drive. Boyfriend managed to glide the truck under the monster live branch that overhung the drive, reasoning the truck would be weighted and therefore lower on the way out.

I had the three unhappy cats in cardboard boxes in the cab of the truck, and it was dark by the time we were ready to haul out. Of course, going down the drive caused the truck to brush hard against the branch, which promptly detached from its trunk, crashing on the cab roof with a mighty sound of crackling and crunching as it took out the riding lights, broke the windshield, and crushed the roof almost down to the steering wheel. I took the now yowling with terror kitties back indoors and had to wake the neighbour (at ten o'clock at night) and ask to borrow a chainsaw. He was quite suspicious until I urged him to look out his window at the disaster area.

Meanwhile, the landlady, a sensitive lass, was crying her eyes out over the loss of the last live branch on the old oak as we sawed and hacked and hauled. I climbed in the cab, placed my hiking-booted footsies against the roof and gave a good solid kick. Amazingly, the roof sort of spanged back to near normal shape and location, and we actually completed the move that night. Cost us a bit, though, and the cats were nervous for a long, long time.