Nov 13, 2009
Mickey the Tough Guy Cat
My cat, Mickey, was a bigger snob than Morris. When I reach out to pet him he always slinked away without so much as a glance in my direction, proceeding to lick his fur as though I’ve contaminated him. But, if I was sick, he'd lurch onto my bed. He had to lurch. He was a really big cat! Then he would decide choose the very spot on my body that troubled me the most and begin kneading "his" pillow to lie upon. I couldn't always tolerate it but usually forced myself. After all, Mickey, the snob, the guy who slunk away from my touch, was actually having something to do with me.
It's odd how he acted, but when he landed on my "spot" and began kneading me, I became aware that a healing process was occurring. I can only hope he got something from me as well. He didn't seem to need my pets. My goodness we must have had some Karma built up to have such a love-hate relationship! I loved him. He hated me. Or sometimes it seemed
It wasn't always that way. There was a time when he was younger, and allowed to freely roam the redwood groves of Northern California when we lived there. We seemed to have a special affinity for one another. It was at that time, I remember in particular, a vivid dream, where I was a furry creature. I was a cat and very proud of myself as I wandered among the trees, and grasses. I came to a fence and leaped to the top of it to see what was on the other side.
Lo and behold! A picnic table with curious objects on it that smelled tantalizingly of food. I jumped down upon it and began snooping. when one hell of a huge dog appeared from nowhere, nearly swallowing me whole. I bolted in mid-air aiming for the safety of the fence with “jaws” too close behind me.
I awoke to find Mickey leaping onto the bed looking wild eyed, and wanting to be petted until he purred.