“Pickles” is Zoë’s nickname. She taught herself fetch, despises milk, loves peanut butter and tomatoes, and runs to the window whenever a truck, school bus or large vehicle drives by. I had to kitten proof the house because she was more destructive than a two-year old child. She even chewed on the dining room table. She is just over four and half years old and still seeks chaos.
She has gotten herself trapped behind a stack of boxes, stuck under a radiator, crawled into a box with a closed lid and many more misadventures. Luckily, I was usually nearby to rescue her each time. Zoë cannot sit still for very long. I call her thunder-kitty when she rushes through the house. Her sharp nails have scratched the linoleum tiles. She loves to jump on one area of the dining room wall. She rushes to the spot, jumps up about three feet from the ground, makes a happy sound, and springs off in another direction while making small scratches in the paint. Heavy sigh.
Pickles hates being alone so she is either shadowing Mo or I. At least she will venture to the basement to use the litter box and eat without us. When I am on second floor for too long (the door is closed), she will stand at the top of the landing and mew for me – loudly. She even follows me into the shower – not to get wet but to sit in the same room and wait for me to wash off the dirt. When I am outside during warm weather and the windows are open she will mew for me through the screen. She is very vocal so I have learned a lot of her communication cues “Mew-lish.”
Since we reside in town, the cats do not venture outside. Too many dangers exist in an urban environment. Mo is neither very bright nor fast. Zoë is bright and fast but naïve. My grandmother had farm cats and many of them perished due to the perils of living outside. Happiness is when Momo & Zozo are sitting on top of me and purring. Aww.
Gotta clean the zoo.