The Zoo - Part 3

I know it’s been a long time since I last posted a “Sitters Tail.” I promise they will be monthly again from now on.

As it has been a long time between drinks, it may help if you go back & read Part 1 of The Zoo, which you will find HERE

No matter what, to help set the scene in your mind’s eye, you should definitely read The Zoo Part 2

Watching The Silent Assassin walk into the room caused my stomach to churn.

Despite the joy that filled my being, surrounded by four loving dogs and Billy Boy, the first cat to surprise me in a good way, Chasssse (said with a hissss) had only needed five seconds alone in a room with me to magnify my fear of felines.

As I mentioned in a previous “Tail,” I was never a fan of cats before I started housesitting.

In my head, my pet philosophy was simple.

I love birds.

I love them so much that, when I was younger and started working part-time, I bred them. I had cockatiels, sulphur-crested cockatoos, short-billed corellas and even a Princess Parrot that I needed a permit to keep.

Now, before you get angry at me, I had several large aviaries wherein all the birds could fly. I lived on an acreage at the time, so there was plenty of room. And, as the birds were aviary-bred, they would struggle to survive in the wild. Yet, they were largely untamed and could not be handled. If you tried, you would get hurt.

Sulphur-crests in particular can & will do a lot of damage to soft, juicy & easy-to-hurt human flesh … especially my favourite, Joe Cocky (he sounded a little like the singer at times).

And cockatiels are renowned for being the most destructive parrots of all for their size. My breeding pair, Befer (pronounced “B for” Bird) and Cefer (that’s “C for” Cockatiel), certainly lived up to their breed’s reputation whenever I placed new eucalypt branches in their aviary.

And, yes, I would not keep birds in a cage anymore, no matter how large the container. As I implied, I was in my teens.

So, back to my old pet philosophy when I was like Avril Lavigne’s song … “young & dumb & we knew everything.”

I love birds.

Ergo, I hate cats as they kill birds.

Ergo, I love dogs as they kill cats.

Please note: That philosophy is largely tongue-in-cheek, as I have never taken joy in the death of any living thing … other than flies, mosquitoes & cockroaches when they have the audacious temerity to invade my living space & vomit on my food, suck my blood, or leave their faeces (accompanied by who know’s what germs & diseases) where it’s not supposed to be! All such invaders, be hitherto warned - enter my kingdom at thy peril.

So, when Chasssse (remember to pronounce his name with a hissss) strolled into the room as if he was The Zoo King of Everything, I was not surprised to observe that it was not merely I who was nervous.

Nala and Harley, the two large dogs, both started getting a little edgy. Their eyes swiftly enlarged until they looked like they were about to pop out of their sockets.

You know those comics (and now AI-generated videos & pics) of dogs with eyes so huge as they witness something so unbelievable that their eyeballs look like they’re going to pop right out & roll across the floor.

Well, I was seeing that in real life.

And in that moment, I knew my greatest fear had become reality.

Chase was “someone” to be feared.

The dogs who lived in The Silent Assassin’s Zoo Kingdom knew it.

And as the latest royal subject appointed to provide food & clean up after His Majesty, I had been taught the lesson of “obey or pay … the blood price” within my first minute in The Silent Assassin’s presence.

When His Royal Catness stopped, slowly turned His head to face me, and blatantly stared at me with a hungry gaze, I knew.

It was time to feed the beast!

Now, His Majesty, the royal Chassssse (hiss, remember), had taught me a valuable & unforgettable lesson in that singular minute of my first session in His Presence.

What His Majesty did not know and was about to learn just as quickly as He had taught me was that I am a rebel against any & every perceived injustice.

And my rebellion is total & absolute - in heart, spirit, thought & deed.

Always has been.

Probably always will be.

If someone needs a helping hand, I am usually quick to jump in and do what I can to be a light & make a positive difference.

However, when anyone attempts to tell me to do something, especially something that I know is not right, I instantly resist.

And, if that living entity persists, my buttons get pushed and I do not merely resist.

I react.

So, when The Silent Assassin glared at me, willing me to feed His Highness NOW, my buttons were officially pushed.

And that meant: Time to push back, you son of a female cat!

You may be The Silent Assassin.

Well, Your Majesty, it’s time to meet The Vociferous Outlaw.

Yeah, I know. That’s a bit lame.

Maybe a whole lot of lame.

However, when the going gets tough, storytellers make crazy stuff up.

Besides, you weren’t there, trying to withstand THAT look.

So, instead of falling to my knees and begging for His Majesty’s forgiveness before racing off to meet His Royal Whim & Fancy, I leaned back into the lounge, relaxed nervously into Billy’s embrace (he was still clutching my neck as he eyeballed me), and whispered reassuringly to Harley and Nala, “It’s okay, puppies. The rebellion against royalty has begun. And you’re on the winning side. You will know this soon because, when I do get up from this place of repose, I will ensure you are both fed before The Silent Assassin.”

… who was no longer silent.

It was as if The Royal Feline had realised I was no longer under His Majestic Thrall.

After uttering an almost pitiable “meow,” Chasssse’s crestfallen gaze turned away from my no-longer-fearful face.

He had one final surprise in store.

I was about to learn something I’d never known about cats.

Well, about this one feline in particular.

Slowly, he inched over to where one of the dog’s stainless steel bowls lay on the white-tiled floor.

Back then, the dogs had permanent access to dried biscuits during the day, not that they would dig in too often.

For Harley & Nala, one of the best parts of their day when I cared for them would become when I added a gravy mix to their dried “hmmm” and turn it into a flavoursome casserole that Harley would wolf down and Nala would slowly enjoy so Harley could drool all over the floor as he watched with desperation after his bowl was licked clean multiple times … just in case he’d missed the minutest morsel.

However, I had not yet performed this feat of “magic” for my Zoo canine family. It was my first day as official Care-taker / Food-provider / Hug-giver at The Zoo.

All Chasssse could see was a bowl of dessicated “wot-the.”

Yet, His Highness was starving.

He hadn’t eaten for far too long, according to The Royal Schedule.

And the two-legged Royal Subject was not hearkening to His Royal Summons, despite the seeping scratches that clearly identified me as one of His Bondslaves.

Chasssse stared into the bowl of oh-so-yummy bikkies.

Pondering.

Waiting.

Willing the contents to change into something that a Royal Feline Dignitary such as Himself would deign to digest.

Then, after what seemed like an eternity, he slowly lowered his face.

He sniffed the almost-non-existent aroma.

After one last, long, baleful glare at me, he opened his mouth.

And His Royal Highness, King of The Zoo, ruler over all hoomanz & dogz who dared enter His Domain, began to eat.

As soon as I heard that first unmistakable “snap, crackle & pop” emanate from His Highness’s mouth, I lost all fear. In less than 1 second, The Silent Assassin became His Royal Lowness, Eater of Nibbles that even the dogs would not permit themselves to be seen digesting in public.

What a fall from grace!

And, for the first time since enduring The Silent Assassin’s painful brand, I felt relief.

I WAS FREE.

And it was time to revel in my freedom.

After carefully encouraging Billy to relax his grip, I stood … a free man!

I sauntered cockily into the home cinema.

And I did what became one of my favourite pastimes at The Zoo.

Yeah, baby! I relaxed to the max in the most “you-bewt” massage chair I’d ever experienced up close & personal.

When Chasssse walked into the cinema a few minutes later and glared at me with a look that only cats can deliver with such passion, I responded with my favourite one-finger salute.

Yep - a big thumbs up!

Because, in that very moment, I knew.

The Zoo was going to be unforgettable for all the right reasons.

And there were many stories waiting to be written.

For that, you’ll have to wait ‘til next month.

Thanks for reading my Substack. However, as I am not a mind-reader, I need you to click the heart-shaped LIKE button to let me know you enjoyed this post and would like more posts like it.
That also helps new readers discover me on Substack, as the more likes my posts get, the more my stories will be promoted to other Substack readers.
So, I hope you like this post enough to like it.
And then, I will like you. Probably not as much as I like Nala & Harley. But possibly more than I like Chasssse, though he has definitely grown on me over time, as you will learn if you keep reading my Sitters Tails.