Lately, I’ve been dreaming about cats. The other night I dreamt that a half-grown grey cat brought a small mouse into the garage where I was working. The cat set the dead mouse down a couple metres from me (physically distancing herself) and began picking away delicately at the rodent. Soon after, another cat, older and also grey but with prominent orange stripes, carried in a larger rodent, placed in on the concrete floor near the other cat and started to feast.
I recall feeling flattered in my dream that the cats trusted me enough – a total stranger – to eat their lunch right in front of me. In fact, both cats behaved as if I wasn’t even there. I was very pleased but, at the same time, a bit grossed out because the consuming of the dead rodents was pretty graphic. In my dream, I planned how I would keep these cats without having to bring them into the house to live with me.
I pictured installing a cat door in the walk-through door that opens onto our patio and I imagined an electric heater of some type to keep my feline friends warm in winter weather. I worried that the heater might start a fire. Always thinking ahead, even when I’m asleep.
Our housecat died almost exactly six years ago now. Here’s some solid advice: if you don’t want a cat for sixteen years, don’t volunteer to bottle feed newborn kittens for the local SPCA. How do you feed a helpless creature for weeks, waking up at 3:00 a.m. to heat tiny bottles of milk-replacement formula, and then give that kitten back? You don’t. That’s how we got Otis.
We miss her presence still, that funny little cat. She was neurotic in the most entertaining way. Otis also made a mess, especially during the last few years, vomiting everywhere and suffering from what seemed like a steady stream of diarrhea. So now you understand why we’re not in a big rush to invite another animal to live inside with us.
Remember George? The neighbour’s cat that went missing last year and then showed up months later, buck-shot and starving? We saw George the other day trying to hoist his now-rotund body over our back garden gate. We were so happy to see him out and about.
When he first returned home after his ordeal, his owner told me that George ate all the food in his dish and then tried to eat the plastic cat food dish. While he was away on his adventure, George’s owners were offered a pair of kittens. They missed George, assumed dead, and missed having cats around. So they adopted the kittens a few weeks before George rammed his head repeatedly into the locked cat door of his former home.
The other day, we drove into our alley and pressed the automatic garage door opener button. Just then, we saw two startled cats, young and matching, leap into the air from in front of the magically-opening door, and dash with their bellies nearly flat against the ground and their tails straight out, across the alley and back to George’s house. The kittens must’ve been enjoying the sunshine reflecting off the white garage door onto the concrete pad in front of it. Cats are funny.
George and I hope that you have a very pleasant weekend. Thanks for reading our caturday post. ~ Lori