“Fun with Zoe” enters a new phase.
For the past three weeks, every evening at seven I’ve taken Zoe – by force, if necessary – up into the loft and abandoned her to her own devices so the other animals can get some peace. Increasingly this has been in the face of bitter complaint.
Last night she decided that, since I’d clearly made a big mistake here, she’d just take matters into her own paws. The idea might have worked but her technique was way off. Basically she tried to climb down one of the uprights of the loft ladder and was about to take an eight-foot header on the floor. I dropped my book and got there in time. I put her back in the loft: Nope. This happened three times. She wasn’t buyin’ the bullshit.
I said something apologetic to Ghost, who watched the whole drama anxiously. Ghost has been refusing to come indoors at all during the day when That Kitten is in there. Click is slowly learning to deal with the situation though she makes her opinion of any approach clearly known and all scenarios involving HER food bowl are still a big problem. But she has also moved out during the day. And in fact she was still outdoors when our little evening drama occurred.
Ghost rolled his eyes as the kitten came down the ladder with me. He whined. “Can I go outside now?” No, Ghost, you can’t go outside. If I let him out at this point he might not come back in till winter.
He tried. He really did. By now I’m sure the whole place smells like Zoe to the dogs, she clearly lives here and isn’t going away, and Ghost knows he must somehow cope. But he has always been convinced life cannot proceed without a lot of nightly quiet time. I don’t really disagree.
Zoe viewed the presence of this rarely-seen smaller brown dog as a great and fascinating thing. This one MUST want to play! She kept darting at his legs. He was having none of it, but was really truly honestly trying to be polite. The problem is that there are only so many places a dog can go in the Lair.
Finally she cornered him, reared up and wrapped both front legs around one of his. That did it. A short, sharp snarl and a very convincing snap sent her teleporting across the room and under the stove.
It didn’t help for long. Within a few minutes she’d forgotten the whole incident and was at it again.
You would get the idea, right? It’s not that hard. The dog wants to be left alone. But she just doesn’t seem able to absorb such a counterintuitive concept. She has the same problem with Click. “But I’m the baby. GOTTA love me!”
No, Zoe. They really don’t. That’s not in the local social contract. You have to find a way to add some value. We don’t do entitlements here, except that I will continue to attempt to preserve your life until you grow the hell out of this phase.
That’s not light reflection. That’s hatred.
Have you had occasion to try her with a laser pointer? Or maybe fry her with a laser beam?