Life is a pretzel

My life has been crooked from the start.

Born in the country of the red dust and absent pets, where cats’ and dogs’ best option is to be allowed to live near the house and be fed with what’s left after people. Abandoned by my cat-mother the day I was born, found by this crazy person I call Mom. Traveled in circles between Siem Reap, Phnom Penh and Pattaya. Got sick, fell down, got bitten and got sick sick sick again. Traveled across the world, teaching Mom not to be afraid of flying. Conquered the snows of Siberia and earned IG friends from all around the world with my fiery nature.

My life looks more like a pretzel, than a line from A to B to C.
Mom says she wants to straighten our life. But what does it mean? To know what awaits you tomorrow? To have everything planned? To have no reason to be afraid of a new month coming? Or to wake up with a smile on your face?
Well, Pixie and I are in charge of her smiles, so she always has plenty in stock. What else could she want? You don’t think she meant me to straighten my tail, do you?

That reminds me of a song Pixie and I created some time ago.

Ros:

My tail’s not bushy,

My tail’s not long

My tail’s not what you want to hold on!

 

My tail is crooked

A-aha

My tail is crooked

A-aha,

My tail is crooked!

 

Pixie:

My tail my tail my tail my tail.

My tail my tail my tail my tail.

 

Ros:

My tail is my feature,

My tail is my pride,

Touch my tail and I’ll beat ya, it’s only for my bride.

 

My tail is crooked

A-aha

My tail is crooked

A-aha,

My tail is crooked!

 

Pixie:

My tail my tail my tail my tail.

My tail my tail my tail my tail.

No outrunning our fate

No outrunning our fate,

No shielding life with bare hands,

No making eras change their gait,

No seeing where a childhood spans.

 

Protect the kingdom of your dreams

And make the time to slow its pace.

Set free forever your heart’s screams,

Come first among your foes in race.

 

Restore the meaning of your life.

Provide your army with a faith.

Ignite the eyes of Love with strife.

Imagine that you live in grace.

 

Rewrite the code of happiness.

Reshape the fabric of the worlds.

Reduce the feelings’ timidness.

Release anew the book of odds.

 

Without stirring tears’ load,

Nor picking up old dust from soul,

Remain yourself and face your bode,

Stop playing hide and seek in whole.