The following is a situation that led to Coco growling for the first time ever. She wanted to let her inner mountain lion loose. But all she was able to do was squeak like a mouse. Tink also tried and was only able to connect with a very light meow. “We just don’t feel safe with them as protectors.”
They didn’t even try to save me from one tiny moth. The best that either of them could do was look at it. No warning, no gang signs, no saying “You need Jesus!!! Nothing!!!!!”
Ok that was harsh but not really. It was my fault for zooming in on the picture and making it look like a dinosaur from Jurassic Park.
(We don’t know that cat.)
When it was actually the size of a quarter. Or maybe a dime depending on the angle. And we are assuming that the lizard was female because none of us saw lizard balls. And we don’t actually know if lizards have balls. But if they do we don’t know where they are kept. Maybe at an alternate address. We took a vote and named her “Lizzie the Lezzie.” Not to be confused with the real “Lizzy the Lezzie.”
I looked up after about an hour of scurrying to find Coco and Tink with bewildered looks on their faces and pawing at the lifeless reptile. Coco said, “Momma!!!!! We need to change the batteries out.” I had to explain to her that this was not a situation that batteries could fix.” Coco was very upset that Lizzie was dead. She was crying and saying, “Momma, I didn’t want to unalive her. I was just playing with her.” I told her, “Baby I know. You just played with her to death.”
We later found out that males are the ones that flash that piece of pink skin. That was like puffing out their chest. And we thought the whole time that the lizard was blowing bubbles because she was chewing watermelon bubble gum.
We are all in therapy and trying to work things out. Coco and Tink got some tutoring sessions in aggression and have progressed to a light hiss and a paw in the air and learning how to call a bluff. One night they alerted me to a possible intruder. It was a 2” moth holding a shank. And a pregnant gnat with an attitude. I told Coco, “get to it sister, this one is yours.”
The last time I saw them Tink had moved onto other things. And Coco was still grieving and processing the trauma. She is working with a therapist that really knows her stuff. And her therapist doesn’t allow Coco to deflect the painful issues. She will, however, guide her through it with a crappy little nudge from a therapeutic assignment.
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This Puzzled Life 