Ziva. My princess, my baby girl, my purr butt, my sweetie, my furry representative of a TV show character, a feline beauty with cuddliness and cattitude rolled into one – A diva of epic proportions.
It was only recently that I realized you are also the Queen, the one who dominates silently and swiftly, the one who has a hissy fit when I trim claws, the one who hisses and growls when house-sibling Gibbs has chased you more than his allotted time. My Queen, you take no prisoners when it’s play time and no one rules over your blankie-filled basket but you. I bow to your presence every morning in the bathroom, I ensure that your highness has plenty of kibble and water to avoid the hunger of paupers, and I stroke your royal belly when you allow such action by a lowly human. I humbly thank you for sitting in my lap and laying alongside me when I sleep, sharing your deeply thunderous purrs and majestic snoring that is rarely shared with visiting guests. It pains me that my guests always gush over Gibbs, but that is because he is not as dignified as you. (Remember, they called him Fruit Loop at the shelter.) Continue to hold your head and tail high and never mind the lowly guests or the fruit loop.
I love you my Queen. I’ve loved you since the first day I brought you and your basket home from the shelter. I will love you, serve you and wait on you forever, as you so rightfully deserve.
I bow to you and ask for your favor.
OK, Ziva, you can quit glaring at me now and go back to sleep. Jeepers.
(This has been Part 1 of Furry Tails. Look for the Gibbs edition, coming soon.)