Blizzard does not like Geoffrey.
I thought she might warm up to him eventually, but nope. If anything, her dislike of our new feathered “guest” has grown stronger. It’s like having a mischievous sibling move in and take over your favorite spot on the couch—except, in this case, the couch is the entire tower.
It started this morning when Geoffrey decided that Blizzard’s breakfast bowl looked more interesting than his usual scavenged crumbs. Now, Blizzard doesn’t typically care about food—she’s dainty like that. But her breakfast is her breakfast, and Geoffrey learned that the hard way.
There I was, sipping tea and reading a book, when I heard the commotion. A loud squawk, a furious growl, and then the unmistakable sound of something crashing to the floor.
I rushed into the kitchen to find Blizzard bristling, her icy fur puffed up like a snowstorm in progress. Geoffrey was perched on the counter, glaring down at her, feathers ruffled. Her breakfast bowl was upside down on the floor, its contents scattered everywhere.
“Geoffrey! Blizzard!” I groaned, hands on my hips.
Blizzard shot me a look that clearly said, “He started it!”
Geoffrey, unbothered, croaked, “Pretty!” like he thought the whole mess was some kind of performance art.
This wasn’t the first time Geoffrey had gotten on Blizzard’s nerves. He seems to think her fluffy tail is a toy, and she hates it. The moment he hops too close, she flicks her tail out of his reach and growls low in her throat. Geoffrey, being Geoffrey, takes this as a challenge.
I caught him once, perched on the back of the chair Blizzard was napping on, inching closer and closer like he thought he could sneak up on her. When she finally noticed, the yelp that came out of him as she swatted at him with an icy paw was enough to make me laugh out loud. He didn’t come back to that chair for hours.
I keep hoping they’ll call a truce. Blizzard is patient with me when I make mistakes, so surely she can find some patience for Geoffrey… right? But every time she so much as sees him, her ears go flat, and her tail starts twitching.
Geoffrey, for his part, doesn’t seem to understand that Blizzard could probably freeze him solid if she wanted to. He treats her icy glares like an invitation to play. Or steal.
The other day, I caught him hopping away with one of her favorite toys—a small stuffed rabbit that Father gave her years ago. Blizzard didn’t even growl; she just stared at him like he’d signed his own death warrant. When I finally retrieved the rabbit and gave it back to her, she carried it off to her bed and laid down on it, glaring at Geoffrey the whole time.
Today’s breakfast fiasco might have been the last straw. Blizzard has been avoiding Geoffrey all day, retreating to her favorite spots and refusing to come out while he’s in the room. Meanwhile, Geoffrey struts around like he owns the place, occasionally squawking “Pretty!” as if that absolves him of all wrongdoing.
I want them to be friends, really, I do. Blizzard is my loyal companion, and Geoffrey is… well, Geoffrey is Geoffrey. But I’m starting to think they’re destined to be frenemies forever.
For now, I’m playing referee, keeping Geoffrey away from Blizzard’s things and bribing her with extra treats when he’s particularly annoying. It’s a delicate balance, but I’m determined to make it work.
Maybe one day they’ll surprise me. Or maybe I’ll wake up to find Blizzard has frozen Geoffrey into an ice sculpture. Either way, life in the tower is never boring.
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