Zerta

REEDSY.COM  15MAY2020

Writing prompt #190

Write about an animal who causes a huge problem.

Zerta by clcronan 2020

There are definitely times when you have to ask yourself, “ Why am I a good person? Is it even worth it?” Like that time I found the dog crate by the side of the road and took it upon myself to play rescue hero. I spotted it and for some reason started to pull over right away. Then the crate wiggled and that sealed the deal. The mighty trumpets played a superhero theme in my head and I was going to “bring goodness to bear where there was once evil to fear.” It sorta scares me that my mind can make up this hyper exaggerated reverse identity dismorphia. By that I mean I can pretend to be a super hero at a moments notice. The major problem with this pastime is it sets me up for a fall every time.

So the crate contained an alien. I was on the side of a busy highway, barely balancing in a squat on my heels, staring, jaw agape, into the shadows of the crate at a creature I could never have imagined. A puppy, a kitten, a full litter, even a skunk someone might be trying to relocate, sure, but what in the name of blazes was this thing? Maybe a real-life Yoda? What life form is Yoda anyway? (Mental note to self to look that up.) Maybe an Ewok? Ok - a Star Wars theme - obviously this is a prank, and this thing is a robot with a hidden camera that can see up my skirt. Great.

I hate when I try to save the world, and the world just wants to look up my skirt.

So I kicked the crate and said some unkind words to the camera operator. The sound that came out of that crate curled my pencil-straight hair up into a Bob Ross afro in the span of half a breath. What the hell? Hell itself? Jezuz, what if this isn’t a robot-camera? I must have hurt the thing something awful because it was screaming. And not in a way I had ever heard before.

I went over and picked up the crate and brought it over to put down on the hood of my car. I needed a better look. I started to cry the way I do when anyone - or anything- else cries. I bent over to see what I could see. This alien had a very big voice, but even bigger eyes, but even bigger ears. Was it a Furby? Like in that movie Ted, where the teddy bear comes alive, only this one is a Furby-Ewok-Yoda toy. Sure, that’s it. Sure, I felt perfectly sane. How long should I stand here? How long til some passerby took notice of the crazy crying lady who keeps her screaming Furby-Ewok-Yoda toy in a dog crate? 

I stuffed the crate on the floor in the back seat, bucked myself in, and started driving. I didn’t even know where any animal rescue places were. So, tired, confused, and curled in upon myself from the noise I was no longer sure I should call ‘crying,’ I headed for home. My kids would know what it was, my husband would know how to get rid of it.

My 6 year old came running out of the garage as soon as I pulled into the driveway. Her eyes went as big as turkey platters when I opened my door and she heard the noise. My 10 year old son stopped in mid-dribble and turned toward to car as if he thought I was the one making that noise. In a flurry of questions and doors opening and closing and my husband joining the fray from beside the house where he had been tending to watering the flower bed, and the creature flipping itself all around the inside of the crate which threatened to drop out of my daughter’s tiny-handed grip, and my son telling her she’d, “kill the new puppy,” if she dropped it, and my husband stepping back and saying, way too calmly, “That is not a puppy.” I dropped down onto my butt in the middle of the driveway, and choked out the story between the sobs I kept sobbing from being overwhelmed.

Soon enough we were all sitting in the driveway, staring into the crate. The creature was exhausted, so was only whimpering now. Staring back at us with those big, black, shiny marble eyes, as if we were the aliens. My son, the budding Attenborough wanna-be, said, “Fennec. Fennec Fox. That’s a Fennec Fox, Mom.” Which he quickly followed with, “Dad, we just have to keep it.” My daughter heard, “keep it,” and shot up into the air like a rocket and started dancing and singing, “Keep it, keep it, Daddy will let us keep it. Keep it, Keep it, Daddy will let us keep it. “ From my place on the pavement, I said quietly, as if to myself, and maybe hoping the creature would answer me, “What is a Fennec Fox?”

Six weeks went by, my husband had started spending more and more time outside staying busy, my children had not managed to focus on anything else but Zerta since they met her in the driveway. My son, the wildlife researcher, named her Zerta after the scientific name for Fennec Fox. My daughter thought it was silly so she liked it, so it stuck. I had spent hundreds of dollars on making Zerta comfortable and happy in our home, her new home. When happy, she made a purring noise that was very endearing. When hungry she made a noise somewhere between a stuttering barking dolphin getting stepped on and the screech of an angry seagull, yelping incessantly; not endearing. Bone achingly disturbing, not endearing.

So we did more research, we fed her, we played with her, we watched her comically try to jump up onto the furniture, we watched her do zoomies around the floor and rugs and blankets, and children's legs until we thought for sure she’d pass out from exhaustion at any moment. But no, that girl could run for what seemed like eternity.

She was only the size of my palm six weeks ago. We’d fed her with a syringe for three weeks. The research said she wouldn’t weigh more than two and a half pounds when full grown, which only took a little over 9 months. We were led to believe she could be litter box trained. I had all but given up on her as far as that went. I had added “a load of laundry” to our daily routine to keep up with wet socks, wet towels, wet throw pillows, wet bedding, wet t-shirts, and everything else that little thing “marked” as her own. Whenever I heard the sound, “Gaawhhr!” that meant more laundry from a wet family member. 

Here is the contents of the fact sheet my son posted on the refrigerator: 

crepuscular/ nocturnal

omnivore - likes dog food & rodents, fruits, eggs, insects AND RABBITS (Eww!)

adapted to desert life so can skip water and feet are furry for insulation against hot sand

great at digging (will dig 20’ down) and jumping (2’ height or 4’ distance)

has a musky odor at the tip of their tail

ears provide for cooling and sensitive hearing to detect underground prey

owls are their most dangerous predator outside of their natural habitat

Here is the fact sheet I compiled in my head:

There was no Fennec Fox section at the pet store

Zerta resisted responding to the sound of her name,

   but would come running to the sound of the refrigerator opening

She was a toe biter

Her coat got matted, but she loved to be brushed

No one should sit down anywhere without checking for her first

   she loved hiding under couch cushions, throw pillows, sweatshirts

tossed aside, etc.

Her favorite places were: in bed with the kids, the beach to dig and sun bathe, and pouncing all over the back yard and in the flower beds catching all sorts of snacks. We had a few toads that thought they could cut across our yard. They were wrong.

My bill at the pet store included:

a new bed for inside her crate

a harness and extra long lightweight leash

tubes and caves and a variety of cat toys

a remote control mouse to chase

a deep walled kitty litter box, scoop, and litter

a special backpack with air holes and a window

a baby stroller with a clear plastic zip top with air holes

My return on that investment was:

she shredded the bedding in her crate but seemed to like it better that way

she spent an enormous amount of time getting tangled in her leash

she enjoyed caves and tubes to hide in, but prefers the nape of my neck behind my hair

she pounced on the rc mouse and proved it was not Fennec-proof

kitty litter is a digging toy

the back pack and the stroller bring out the frightening noises the neighbors call about

scrap paper is hours of entertainment 

empty boxes are perfectly good caves

belly rubs are better than anything money can buy

She was the loudest and silliest and snuggliest member of the family. We took a ridiculous amount of pictures and videos and posted her online so much she ended up with her own blog.

The tiny baby with a face like a baby seal - all round black eyes and whiskers, and her snout smaller than the tip of my pinky.

The white-blonde coloring with a strawberry-blond yarmulke between her ears and a tiny black tip on her tail

Running with no traction on slippery wooden floors, but never giving up

acting like a cat - napping in the sun, purring half asleep in my sons lap

acting like a dog - spinning in circles before she lays down, wagging her tail

acting like an escape artist - squeezing, jumping or digging her way out of any barrier

the votes on does she look more like a bat, Dumbo, a sphinx, a Gremlin, Furby, Ewok, or Yoda

the t-shirt design contest

the votes for favorite picture

   in a hole at the beach with just her ears showing, or in the tub

looking like a wet rodent

the votes for favorite video

   prey pouncing on a toad in the backyard, or zoomies on an obstacle

course my son made

the compilation of all her vocalizations - a witchy laughter, a monkey

in the Amazon, a snarl at the neighbors cat, the screeching cry of

torture, that purr that melted hearts

Zerta lived in our house but she never followed any of our rules. By the time she was one, even my husband had fallen in love with her. The neighbors always called about her screeching, but were always quick to ogle her when she was out for a walk. She learned to get along with the cat next door and sometimes they’d even sun bathe together. She never tired of being brushed, or of belly rubs, or of snacks.

Twelve years into this love affair, after all that laundry, after all that laughter, Zerta curled up in a box and never woke up. I made a super hero blanket to wrap her in. I told her that on the day I met her, I thought I was going to be a super hero. Even though I knew that as pastimes go, this one set me up for a fall every time. There is no fall like falling in love, and no fall like the one of losing someone you love, especially when that someone is a superhero.