She rests high above the canopy of palms.
Down below, fruit trees are scattered between great boulders, streams are woven and swell, jetting into freefall before careening down the falls, sounding out the endless quenching, full supply.
The wash of cool water bathes itself; churning beneath in deep currents below the surface, then out foamy to the rippling white edges of the lagoon.
A small chorus of turning Finch swarm past in song as clouds, towering well beyond the glass, part like the doors of an ancient cathedral, pouring light and heat onto her face.
Try to tell her she is not the Queen, attempt to ask what ever took so long for her to get here, she'll leave you cold.
Not unlike the Abyssinians, bred so closely to her own, she knew there was a great tendency to get caught up in too many human affairs given the social nature of her ancestry. Still it was time. Over time. Which is why three weeks earlier she had taken leave of the apartment at an opportunity one night with a window left open and nothing but a zombie roommate to engage. Zoe took to the streets.
It was time for pure feline.
I am a furbearing animal and I need nothing else but to breathe and carry on simply, efficiently. To live cleanly and happily.
She licks and licks again. A great Canyon of deep blue is opened above. Here is where she lies effortlessly and for as long as she wishes. Feline wholly and truly. Unadulterated by human influence and sentiment, strictly speaking: CAT – nothing else,; meowers, man.
Three days per week people are allowed in to enjoy the five-stories-tall Wardian's case. Otherwise, as far as she is concerned, which is as far as anything will go from now on, this is her little kingdom.
Every hour, as the shadows move across the stony pathways fanning patterns all about the broad leaves of the Yucca plant, the massive Bismarck palm, belongs to her.
Yes, she would tell you immediately, to her and also as equally to any living thing held there in gentle dynamic permanence, in paradisaic balance within the centuries-old tropical conservatory. So to then did it belong to the fragrant orange Jasmine… the Blue Porterweed… Yellow and green budgies, The Golden bamboo with it's scampering monkeys in miniature… every musing of the Fiddle Leaf Fig… each of the daily red splashes of Hibiscus and Canna Lily.
Of course, there are mice. There is a way to become rather hungry and lackadaisical if one is not careful. Surely it took her at least a month to become completely acclimated and to win her way to the top of the searching rock, to earn her Queendom fair and square. However, she continued to marvel at how quickly so many of the other creatures within the obscure and profoundly comfortable confines found so many ways to adapt to her arrival and effortless ascendancy among such a diverse group of species.
Half of the joy she now savored through morning hours such as these came in sharp contrast, of course, to how things had gone for her that first night out, back when the man had become so sick and run down, so much so it was as if she had disappeared already and he hadn't even noticed.
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