‘No, no, NO!
She needs to explore – I get that, but just not there or there. I try to be reasonable. She’s everywhere I don’t want her to be.
Is it better to have a perfect couch and drapes without rips or a crazy, energized creature that purrs and cuddles? I’m still deciding that. That sounds slightly embarrassing – material possessions over a living animal – could I be that shallow? I hope not.
When she’s sleeping, all is well.
Awake, a terror.
Which is better?
Fishing line with dangling feather birdie makes her chirp and leap as if she were doing the high-jump in the Olympics. I try to hide it, but she knows where it’s hidden – and scratches the closet door to get it out. Can’t keep anything from her. She watches.
Please sleep – I’ll pay you, give you extra food?
‘Don’t go in the toilet!’ Her paws are wet – no pee in bowl, whew!
But Zinga is so cute – that overrides her annoyances. A muted calico – even her description is lovely. I only knew of a ‘calico cat’ from the musical Cats. I never met one in person – only black, tabby and Persian. She is unique (as all cat owners would say).
It’s a psychological adjustment that I’m struggling through.
The difficulty is keeping her awake in the early evening, so she’ll sleep through the night.
At around 8:47pm, she becomes the devil. The wall is her enemy. She flings herself against the invisible threat that surrounds her. She sideswipes the shoes by the bookshelf as she races down the hall. Then slides into the heating fixture with a crash. Her frantic energy makes me want to grab her by the scruff and massage her into quiet, calmness.
It works – I hold her, she purrs into my shoulder – we are at peace – she is almost dozing.
She lurches out of my grasp.
AAGH, come here Zinga!
After another 20 minutes of psycho cat – she sits on her perch, pretending like nothing has happened.