Now that the high from getting the new kitten settled in has passed, I suppose it’s time to revisit the feelings of dread and memories that give me nightmares from time to time.
I know I haven’t talked much about my previous pets… But truth be told, as much as I have some incredibly amazing tales about the quirks of each one of them, the stories have always ended tragically. At best, we reached bittersweet endings, all of them rather premature.
One of my cats was rather ghost-like, both in appearance and behavior. One day, he vanished never to be seen again. I’m pretty sure I caught a glimpse of him in the general area we used to live a couple of years after his disappearance, looking glorious and healthy and happy haunting the neighborhood, so I guess he did find a new place to live in, after all.
Another, one of the most amazing felines I’ve ever met, was a survivor, he had a crappy life, got hurt pretty badly at some point, but survived after weeks of my whole family nursing him. And went back to being daring and adventurous as ever once again, because dammed if he would let severe blood loss prevent him from adventuring! Yet, one day he suddenly keeled over, healthy one day, dead the next… We suspected poisoning from one of the neighbors, but those things are finicky and no one ever learned anything, we eventually moved away to never go back anywhere near that place.
A few months after that we kept a rescue kitten. She was adorable and adjusted perfectly to the life in the apartment we were in at the time. Catching birds mid-flight as they passed over the balcony and all, the little ninja. Until such a time where we moved again, this time to a floor-level house. First night in there, I wake up at three in the morning to her barking at a swarm of dogs staring from the garage door. And by barking I mean that she wasn’t mewing at them, she was actually attempting to imitate the sound they were making, while sitting away from their reach and looking quite deadpan at their desperation to try and reach her. Yet, she wasn’t used to roaming the streets, and curious as if she was a cat, she did try her paw at exploring outside… We woke up one morning to find out she was run over.
Months past, a stranger that learns our family likes cats gifts us a kitten. He grew up fine, but didn’t adapt well to living in an apartment. He is the one I mentioned in the previous post as the inspiration for the blog’s name. We noticed he was starting to lose appetite and growing increasingly stressed, staring outward to the horizon… There wasn’t much we could have done, so we found someone who would take him and give him a huge courtyard to run on. Last time I heard, he was happy, healthy and ruling over his new place with a gentle claw. Bitter to lose him, but sweet that he avoided disaster.
Come present. Lyra found me two days ago. I wouldn’t have left her behind at the mercy of fate, but after two nights of sleep, the memories have a way to seed the fear. Not going to give up, but I suppose admitting that I’m terrified is one step to moving forward. So, in a way, this is kind of my way to wish things grow differently from the way they have before.
I’ll try my best, I just hope that my best is good enough.
An odd place to sleep 