Greetings, dear friends in The Land of Zen! The other day, I was thinking about something that causes me great stress. I wanted to share my thoughts here, because I figure some of you good people may relate. And maybe, if I am lucky, some of you may have a few words of wisdom to share with me.
Before I go any further, though, an introduction may be in order, although I find it hard to believe that I am not, by now, known far and wide.
My name is Zoe the Fabulous Feline, and I write about life with my human, Emily. No, scratch that (no pun intended). I write about my life and adventures, and, occasionally, Emily makes an appearance in my stories, as she will, briefly, in this one.
So . . . what I was thinking about is this: closed doors. And how much I detest them—not very Zen-like, I know.
Sometimes, when Emily goes into her room, she shuts the door tightly behind her. The minute I hear that sound, my ears go up and I go on high alert. For what or why, I don’t know. I am not sure I even have the words to describe the feeling that comes over me when I see closed doors. They bother me. They distress me. They . . . never mind; let me just say I have an intense dislike of them. In fact, the reaction they create in me is as strong as a life-threatening allergy. Seriously! I start to wheeze, my heart starts pounding, and my paws get sweaty.
I will run to the door, my imagination going wild. I will sit in front of that door, with all kinds of thoughts racing through my mind. Why is that door closed? What is going on back there? Is she selfishly enjoying treats in that room? Does she have another, more favored feline behind that closed door? It becomes my sole mission to get that door open, so that I can see—well, whatever there is to see. Which I am convinced is far more interesting than what I see on my side of the door.
So, this is how it usually goes: I scratch the door, gently at first. I cry, softly at first. If Emily has not opened the door after I’ve played both those cards, the scratching and crying intensifies incrementally until I reach peak and she reaches the end of her patience. She gives in and opens the door. Just like I knew she eventually would.
Listen, I know she sometimes needs her privacy. I get that. What I don’t get is why she holds out so long. I always win in the end.
You can catch up with any Zoe the Cat Posts you may have missed, by any of the following three means:
Clicking on the Zoe the Cat tag at the bottom of her posts
Typing Zoe into the Search box top right of blog and Enter or Return