Dream a little dream
In early summer of 2012, I had completed writing my book “The Sharing: The Owner’s Manual for Being Human.” I was in the beginning stages of editing and had a family reunion trip booked at the end of the month. My life was full. I certainly didn’t feel I needed another distraction. But apparently Creation had a different thought.
Early one Wednesday morning, I had a dream. In it, my partner Nate Hall and I were at a garden center, relaxing outside and sitting on a bench. I heard a soft but insistent mewl, a kitten mewl. I made the usual kitty kissy noises, and a little Siamese kitten in a red leash and harness jumped up on my lap, head butted me and proclaimed proudly, “I fooled you. You thought I was afraid, but I wasn’t.”
I spent that day and evening pondering the dream. Did the kitten represent my inner child? Was the red leash and harness a symbol of my personal power? What was this dream trying to tell me? How was I fooling myself?
The next day at work, I took time over my lunch break to perform a daily ritual. I went to the Specialty Purebred Cat Rescue (SPCR) website to view their adoptable cats. I had gotten into the habit of looking at the pictures of cats up for adoption and wishing them well. I’d visualize the cats happy, well and much-loved in their new homes to be.
Imagine my surprise when I clicked on the Available Cats page and scrolled down. The first picture was of the kitten in my dream. I immediately said, “Oh f#*@ !” I had no intention of adopting another cat at that time. The three cats in residence at the time had finally blended into a compatible and congenial clowder. I wasn’t sure they needed a little sister. Besides, I hadn’t had a female cat in well over ten years. I liked the easy-going nature of male cats. And this was a female tortie point Siamese. She was likely to be a handful.
I tried to talk myself out of the meaning of my dream. The next day, I shared the situation with a friend. Her response: “What is it going to take for you to get the message? Get the cat!”
At home I discussed the kitten with Nate. Bless his heart, he is always up for my wild and crazy cat adventures. This would not be the first cat sent to us. We had honored the feline gifts of Creation in the past. Why would we hesitate now?
I sighed, pulled up my big girl pants, and filled out the adoption paperwork. Her picture actually was quite cute. She had started to grow on me, a little. I wasn’t somehow surprised when the application was quickly approved. We arranged to pick her up at the foster home that Sunday, which happened to be Father’s Day. Nate was game to spend his day chauffeuring me and a kitten.
In the foster home, she marched right up to me and curled up in my lap. She had chosen me. I heard, “Well, finally you came to get me!” On the ride home, she was glued to me. I had the impression she thought I was her physical mama.
She remained in a safe introductory room for two weeks, both to acclimate to us and to keep her safe while we were away on vacation. Once we began to release her from the house, it was evident she thought everything and everyone in the house was HERS.
She was clear that she thought I was her mama. But she wasn’t at all clear that I would be in charge. She felt that was her role. She tried to enforce this hierarchy by nipping me whenever she wanted something or didn’t like what I did. The tortitude was strong in this girl cat. Thank heavens she was incredibly pretty, cute, and snuggly. It helped make her rough and ready style a bit easier to handle, at least for the humans.
The boy cats were perhaps less immediately charmed. She chased her adult brother cats mercilessly and nosed them out of their food dishes. She stole toys from them and jumped on their backs to ride them.
Shaman clearly but gently established that he wouldn’t be dominated on day one. He gently pushed her down, rolled her on her back, and every so lightly hissed over her. She got the message, and they got on quite well after that.
Orion too adapted quickly to her style. They played and chased roughly with each other, often leaping several feet in the air to collide with each other. Although Orion was clearly top cat, he was deferential in his demeanor toward Angelica. I was amazed to see that he would even roll on his back, bare his belly, and allow her to play attack him. This openness was never offered to his brothers.
Makhota was another matter. Angelica was smitten with him, a typical young crush. She mooned after him and chased him relentlessly. He responded nonviolently by glaring and hissing at her. He learned, with time, to tolerate her. “Mom, is she really necessary?”
After she had been with us about six months, I thought to ask her “How did you know to find me in my dream?” The immediate response: “Oh, the big one showed me how. The big one who wears brown.” I was initially puzzled. I’ve always pictured my guide Hilarion associated with the color green. This was clearly not his doing.
Then I glanced down at my feet, where a brown striped behemoth reclined, purring loudly. “Shaman, please tell me one girlfriend is enough!” Shaman winked contentedly, closed his eyes, and settled in for further napping.
Over the years, Angelica has seen cat dynamics change in the household. Shaman and Orion passed peacefully. Nimbus arrived and passed suddenly and very (to my mind and Angelica’s) prematurely. Makhota passed. Helios arrived and presented new challenges to Angelica’s adaptability.
But through it all, Angelica has remained herself, a tortie point Siamese diva. She understands that I’m not a fan of being nipped or aggressively licked. Her nickname is Old Eighty Grit because her tongue can debride skin. She has learned, when feeling affectionate, to pat me with her paws instead. This happens daily, but a small proportion of the time. The licking and nipping still is ongoing. She is after all—in her mind—in charge.