No word from Mr. Maury. I really hope he’ll have Willow on his show so we can get down to the bottom of who is the father [or are the fathers?] of Marmalade’s kittens!
In the meantime, Baby Girl’s been spending a lot of time at our window brushing up on her Life Coaching skills. Between Steve obsessing about getting Willow back, Violet’s food obsessions, and Ethel’s quashed singing aspirations, she has her paws full.
Baby Girl brought Ethel a copy of a book called “The Secret” and told Ethel that, if she does everything the book says, her singing career will come to her. Ethel’s had her nose in the book all weekend. At least it’s keeping her quiet!! I wonder if I read that book if I can “will” the General to stay off of my favorite sleeping spots? Maybe I’ll ask to borrow the book when Ethel’s done with it.
My brother Walter says he has some misgivings about Baby Girl’s “expert” advice. For the past several months Walter’s been in therapy. He suffers (and I mean SUFFERS) from debilitating anxiety. But therapy has taught him a lot (even if he hasn’t learned how to not be afraid of his food bowl, raindrops, doors opening, doors closing, loud foot steps…). Walter said having Steve make a Vision Board was a terrible idea, especially when he wasn’t given any parameters, whatever those are.
And telling Ethel that she can read a book and will a singing career into existence [especially with THAT voice] is borderline malpractice, at least according to Walter. But then can a Life Coach be charged with malpractice? Good question. I wonder if Baby Girl carries liability insurance? I should talk to her about that.
Anyway, according to Walter, Steve needs to shift the focus from Willow onto himself. For starters, he suggested Steve write down a list of all of the things he’s been telling himself since Willow left. Walter said the idea is to replace Steve’s irrational thoughts with rational ones.
The thing I don’t get about Walter’s perspective is: Why can’t he do this for himself? Not only is Walter still scared of his food bowl, but lately he won’t come inside when our moms call him after letting out the furry beasts. He lays down in the yard and acts a fool, terrified of the door while at the same time terrified of the wet grass beneath his feet. Did I mention that his anxiety is debilitating? Really, I’m just about over it with ALL of them. Ethel, Steve, Violet… the whole bunch. I write down my observations to record all the things that happen around here, and things just seem to get crazier every day. It’s times like this that I start to understand Violet’s compulsion to drown herself in dog food.