I am sure of it now. Zoe the Destroyer is here solely to bring chaos and to unsettle my world. I startle every time I hear her vault onto the top of the refrigerator. I brace for a crash every time she bounces from my wobbly hand-crafted table to the top of my art supplies cupboard, assuming that she is going to knock down the shelf where the grow light is mounted, and destroy the plants below--again. Her legs are made of springs, and her toe beans are made of superball rubber. She has no respect for anyone's material possessions or personal space. And yet, as I listened to her cry plaintively all day, every time her daddy stepped outside to take down the last of the Christmas lights, or to spray paint the Jeep parts that he sandblasted a couple weeks ago, I am certain that there is no place else I would rather she lived. She knows that man not only saved her life, when she was scared and pregnant and living in a parking lot, she knows that he gave her the best of all possible worlds. She owes him, and she owns him. As I type, she is curled up around his arm, with her face pressed against his forearm, radiating bliss. She is where she belongs. We just have to convince everyone else who lives here of that fact.
I thought Athena was making the most progress getting to know her, but that relationship is backsliding. Unless howling with ears pinned back counts as progress. I had hopes that the two smallest and youngest cats would bond. Lucky for me, Alfred is stepping into the void. He has been chasing her for weeks, but this weekend, twice, she has been sitting in my lap while he approached. They eyed each other, touched noses, and he left quietly. How sad is it that this counts as an earth-shattering moment of peace? Yesterday, she ran up and patted him with both paws before she ran off, and today they stared at each other while she stood on her hind legs and sang. Yesterday, the man suggested that his next career should be a cat behavioral therapist, and I said yes, we could have a team practice at it. I am considering Zoe my doctoral thesis. If I can get her settled in the Pride, I will easily be qualified to teach other people how to calm their high-strung felines. Do you think anyone would be willing to hire us?
I tried looking at new houses tonight, but I think I've burned out on it. I just flipped through pictures, and everything looked awful. I even looked at places two and three times our budget, and nothing appealed to me. Can I just stay here? Can I give up and keep the Park and stop looking at other places that will never fit my lifestyle? I need a big yard and a one-level house with wide hallways and doorways that can accommodate a doggie wheelchair. I don't think that exists anywhere that I have been looking. This house isn't perfect either, but we are settled into a routine here. I just want to stay in my peaceful little Park, and fight the same battles over poison ivy and mosquitoes. If only it were possible.
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