I dream of Genie

I have the cutest kitty in the world. She's a lot of fun and the best thing she does is greet me when I get home. As soon as I open the back door, she's there, flipping over on her back to show me her tummy. It's hard not to smile at her blatant (sort of slutty) attempt to get attention and hard not to bend over and give her what she wants. The thing is, she knows when I'm about to come in when the garage door goes up. The thing would rumble and sort of shake the house as it slowly went up. Over the past few weeks, it got worse. One day a big bolt fell down on me as I was walking in. I looked up and the whole track above me had come off the ceiling. Now we have a new door. It's quiet. It's fast. It's so fast that we have actually stood and watched it go up, adding up all the time in our heads that had been wasted waiting for the old guy to make his way up. But there's a problem. It's too quiet. Cali can't hear it from her perch up in my closet, back behind all of my black clothes, shedding her white hair all over them. I don't get greeted anymore. No tummy to rub. No little pink nose. I have to go to her now and it's just not the same.