Chapter 1

Me, wistfully pondering my role in the universe

Zoa here. Amy insists that putting words on the screen where the Desperate Housewives live is the best way to properly adjust to a major life change. She calls it "blogging." I call it "making bright lights flash in Zoa's eyes and then putting little tiny Zoas on the screen for no reason." But since I'm trying to intellectually embrace the pseudo-hostage situation into which Amy has thrown me, it certainly can't hurt for me to try this bloggy thing, too. Amy has agreed to put together the words that I dictate to her, as long as I speak maasg-maasg. After all, it is Amy who wears the thumbs in our relationship. Yell ka ye.




My journey to America actually began months ago when I was scooped up by a girl in my village, tied up in a rice sack, and biked over to some nasara's house. (*Amy note: Zoa knows not to call me a nasara to my face. So here I'll let it slide... once.)My initial attempts to kill my new captor were unsuccessful, and instead I was punished with four nights tied to a rock in an empty house. 

I now know why Amy subjected me to that. She wants me to be an American cat (*Americat. C'mon Zoa. I know your English isn't great, but have I taught you nothing?!). I've been secretly performing a sociological experiment about this crazy American treatment of pets, and I've come to the conclusion that, as my blog's title would suggest, it is in my best interest to pretend to be one of them. See, where I come from we mooshi are wild, treated like livestock with one specific utility - killing household pets. I loved the freedom to roam the brusse whenever I wanted, and I was certainly in my element there. I have no hair and no body fat -- that life suited me. Well now that I've had a glimpse of a life of luxury, I can admit that lizards don't actually taste that good, and I certainly don't miss having to share my personal space with lambs and piglets. I've tasted the world of Fletnix, or whatever Amy is always raving about, and I'm not going back.

So as much as I complain, this whole "America" thing is not that bad. C'est bonne. 

Of course, what was terrible was the process of getting here. I was in a tiny cage in Ouagadougou for four weeks, only being freed to go the doctor and back. Amy kept saying that I needed to have all of these invasive things done in order to live a better life. That sounds like a load of litter to me, but whatever. I did not get an opinion. Typical.

So over two weeks, I had to get my rabies shot (like I'd ever have the courage to approach something rabid!) and some worms medication (which tasted like the chalk I accidentally licked off the wall of Amy's house) and the world's largest needle injecting some kind of robot brain into my neck so that Amy can find me if (when?) I run away (which I handled with shocking maturity given how violently painful it was). I was not happy. It made me wish I was still tied to that rock.

But Amy ensured me that after two weeks of stress and long walks in the sun to the doctor and back, I had every possible document I'd need to travel with her back to Chez Hartzell. To be honest, I'm not sure why all these papers made Amy so sad and stressed and angry. They're just paper and no one ever asked her to see them. But I guess Amy was going through a lot and was kind of going a little crazy.

Finally we left the cage in Ouagadougou behind for good. I was very excited about this for approximately one hour. That would be the hour when I got to run around and play with Shadowfax's dad and the nasara with the crazy red fur. (*Victor and Nina... Zoa isn't great with names.) But yet again I was taken captive. I was zipped up in a mesh bag... that's when this journey became truly difficult.

As far as I could tell, we took a four-wheeled moto - a car, I think they call it? - to the building where the big metal birds live. Amy had lots of big bags, but I was definitely the bag that made the most noise. Amy bought me my own ticket to fly on the big metal bird, and after she walked me through this doorway that beeped because of Amy's bracelets, we got to go sit at the gate. Amy let me escape from my bag as we sat there as long as she could keep a firm grasp on my rock rope. I got to run all over her lap and climb up on her shoulders and generally charm all the other humans that were around. This is a huge part of my experiment - American animals seem to like the attention of doting humans. I seem to be very good at that.

;cczp 2nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn 404ufffffffffffffffffu4'l
;lknyyyyyyyggggggst[ dssv\ [                      x kl

(*Zoa typed those intricate thoughts himself.)

We finally got on the big metal bird, which Amy has now informed me are called "planes" because she's tired of typing the phrase "big metal bird." There weren't that many humans on the flight, so Amy and I had a whole row of four chairs just for us. I was very popular on this plane. All of the beautiful Belgian ladies who worked there were in love with me. I charmed them with what Amy calls my "Puss in Boots eyes," whatever that means, and they came by to circle around me and coo about six times. They even offered Amy a whole extra meal just in case I was hungry, too. Amy declined, for which I have not totally forgiven her. That rice pilaf smelled just scrumptious.

I spent the whole flight sitting in my bag on the chair next to Amy. I didn't scream and cry very much, and in fact I slept curled up in a ball for most of the flight while Amy watched a show that I believe she called Z`O`A`S. (*it was F`R`I`E`N`D`S. He was right, just in the wrong language.)The beautiful airplane ladies told me that I was the best cat they'd ever seen, not to mention the cutest. I agreed, even when they told me I was "so weird looking it's adorable."

We were working really hard on this blog.

After we got off that plane, we got to sit in another plane-house (*airport... we sometimes use Moore word construction in our English) forever. I got to run around a lot. Amy found a changing room for human babies that had a door and a lock, so I got to run free in there for a very long time. I also got to curl up on Amy's lap to dictate this blog to her for many hours. We sat there for a long time, but I was enjoying myself. The only problem was that my body was experiencing this weird thing. I wasn't sweating or panting, and my skin got bumpy and I was shivering. It was such a foreign feeling to me! I didn't know what to do! Amy finally said I was "cold," a word I was unfamiliar with, and wrapped me up in my Ohio State tshirt so I could nap better.

I had to flirt with more beautiful plane ladies so Amy could get another ticket for me without showing all my paperwork, and then we got on another plane. This one was full of humans, but they weren't so bad. Amy sat with an American family that lives in Rwanda. Those teenaged boys thought I was so tough and fierce. I liked them. No one ever thinks I'm fierce.

I kept to my best behavior on this plane, too. I only started screaming once I decided that I'd done enough traveling for one day, but I waited until there was only about an hour left on the plane before I started doing that, which I believe was a fair compromise. I mostly just slept and ate and watched Amy watch TV. She was watching a movie where lots of little nasaras were running around singing, and they kept saying my name! The song kept saying "Zoa, needle pulling thread." Any idea what that's about?

This was a very stressful process for me. I took many naps like this one.

All in all, it was awful being trapped in my bag. But I handled the planes with aplomb. My first real test, and I passed with flying colors. No pun intended.

When we got off the plane, and about a hundred excited American passengers welcomed me personally to America, all we had to do was collect Amy's bags and have me flirt with one Department of Agriculture lady, and we were officially in the United States. That's when I got to meet Amy's zak ramba! They are all just like Amy, except for the little one, who's like Amy except more scared of me.

I was so excited to move into my new house, too. It has things like furniture and possessions and food. It's such a novel concept!

Unfortunately, this was when I met my mortal enemy. She's a big dog that looks like a sheep and they keep calling her Nova. I was still in my bag when I met Nova, but that didn't stop me from growling and hissing so much that she ran away to hide under the table. I showed her.

Now I live in Amy's room, which is bigger than our kitchen in Koukin, and with so much more furniture for me to hide under! I spent all night exploring this new rooga and I've already found my happy places -- on top of the books on the bottom shelf of Amy's bookshelf, sitting under the corner of the bed where I can see everything the humans do but they can't see me, and curled up right next to Amy while she sleeps.

The culture shock is still making this adjustment very difficult. I have to use a litter box that isn't full of real sand, and there's this weird thing called a "toilet" that they worry about me playing in. Generally speaking, though, this experiment shouldn't be that hard for me to get used to. I eat really good food, play with tons of new things, and Amy even promised she'd buy me my own bed today!

So now, as I sit on Amy's hands as she finishes up putting my words on the screen, I can purr contently in a way that doesn't make Amy wonder if cats can purr sarcastically. I'm actually very happy.

But we need to do something about this whole "being cold" thing.


Wend na ko-d nindaare! Amiina!!

-- ZOA