Holiday greetings, beloved fans of Rocky!
I know, I know, I know. I previously said I’d tell you about Rocky’s adoptive “sister,” Zelda, the tripod. She is not our star, though. She’s a cute and lovable tabico with her Triforce of Feets, but we all know who the true superstar is. And he has been up to some shenanigans. We aren’t here for Zelda, though – we’re here for HRH Rocky. And the shenanigans have only continued to grow as he explores new ways of displaying his lovable oddities.
Our Royal Highness demands all of the attention at all times, and I shall bow to that demand. Not much choice in the matter, as noted in his last update. But now – there’s more.
Rocky has a new mission in life.
He has added to his résumé.
In addition to slightly missing the mark over the top ledge of the litterbox, he’s got two intensified fixations – doors and the stairs. I’ve mentioned them before, but now – now it is quite a thing.
It’s primarily doors. Not just closet doors. No, not whatsoever.
All of the inside doors.
One visit to a toilet wherein the door is not completely closed results in a wide-eyed and unblinking stare through the gap in the door. If you engage, you’ll find yourself on the receiving end of a paw. Peer through the gap and you’ll find a set of large green eyes with massive black pupils staring back at you, as if reading the deepest parts of your soul and things you’d prefer to keep hidden.
Does he know about the embarrassing thing you said in third grade? It’s possible. Does he know when the movie theater employee said “enjoy the movie” and you replied, much to your humiliation, “you, too“? Possibly. Perhaps when you told a gate agent “you, too” when they wished you a good flight?
He somehow knows.
It begs the question: where did this passion come from?
Where will it go?
Where did you come from, door jockey bro?
For a cat who was not meant to thrive as well as Rocky has, it’s almost perplexing; there is almost nothing about him that suggests that he requires the ardent care and support that you, his beloved sponsors, provide, as an advanced needs cat – his energy and vitality are so authentically evident, it’s almost as if he’s driven by some sort of unknown mission. The care provided is an unknown quantity to him, an unseen force that lets him carry on.
The current mission may be simple: stares, stairs, and doors.
Nobody likes a closed door.
Rocky does not like a closed door, but he does enjoy a partially open door. Five minutes with Rocky is enough to see that he has zero clue that he has advanced needs, that he has needs requiring daily care. Does he care? Absolutely not. Rocky continues to be Rocky – wide-eyed, wily, a bit weird, and quite watchful.
What does Rocky want as his holiday gift? I’m not fully sure, but the way he’ll stand up on his hind legs for some pets or bellow for a belly full of treats – I’d say that’s pretty settled. The best we can ask is to look beyond the Rocky-cats, to consider the many others who would benefit from loving support.
Rocky doesn’t give a whiff about it because he has doors to monitor, but I do. In the spirit of the holiday season, we wish you well-being, happiness, and peace—oftentimes, the best gift is that of spirit and vitality, and Rocky delivers it every single day.
Until next year—Rocky stares through the crack of the door and, in his own way, thanks you. To him, it’s all tickety-boo.
Fondly, your correspondent,
Carrie