It would appear that I have been claimed by a cat.
There is this semi-kitten, one from a litter born in the house next door, one I’ve always been a little fond of, who has decided to take up residence in my apartment.
Over the last couple of months, I have come home from work, to find him in the yard, and he escorts me to my door and makes his way into my apartment. At first, I would try to move him back outside, and he has gone, but reluctantly, but he kept coming back. Night after night.
Since this whole thing with finding out about the spell, spell workers and such… he appears to have taken up residence. He’s been sleeping on my front steps at night, keeping an eye on my doors and windows.
About a week ago, when my brother, his girlfriend and the little one were moving in, the cat was weaving his way in and out of the house, examining all the rooms and seeking and receiving affection from everyone except my brother’s girlfriend–or rather, I’ve never seen her be friendly to him. After everyone had gone out, I was at home watching TV and blogging, and after something like an hour, Samba’s (that’s his name) head appeared from under my bed. He stretched leisurely and strolled out into the rest of the house, and eventually I opened the door so he could go outside. It was like both the funniest and most natural thing.
He has been a constant presence over the last week or two, and you can’t tell him he comes from over the wall. He is convinced he’s a part of my household. What’s even stranger is, no one has even tried to chase him away. I have been claimed by a cat. You know how it is, you don’t own them, they own you.
He is a sweet natured, loving, curious, simple creature, and I am pleased to have him here.
He reminds me of a cat I had years ago, Sweet Girl. A creature of surpassing beauty, and so beautiful in Spirit, that people with allergies, had no reactions around her; Cat Haters left loving her. She was definitely, unequivocally my familiar and protector.
I was living in this house; a hundred year old house, that belonged to this quintet of elderly sisters and where I spent many days being babysat as a little kids. Those sisters were wonderfully free spirited. Aunt May and Aunt Millie used to hold ‘Kew Cottage Olympics’, and we–myself, my brother and their great nephew and occasionally a few other children–would run the length of their corridor, feet pounding against the then seventy year old wooden floors. It was great fun! The house was in possession of a wonderful sense of comfort and ease, and I really loved living there.
The windows were in some places sash windows with great deep, old fashioned window coverings, Demerara windows–you know the kind you push out and prop with a stick. On the other side of the house, almost two feet of deep window ledges, and standard windows opened onto the deep green of a banana tree and the curve of Spooner’s Hill, climbing on, winding and twisting like a river out of sight, and my grandmother’s driveway in view; a massive unfinished, empty, decaying house belonging to one of the baddest Bad Men in Barbados, across the open, unwalled right side of the property.
At night, I would leave the window open, and let the sound of the wind rustling the banana tree, and the sound of unsleeping artery road lull me into sleep.
I would turn in my sleep, and momentarily rise up to wakefulness, and find Sweet Girl, her legs folded under her, head held aloft, purring loudly; suss-surring with that comforting tone of cats. She would turn her head at my movement and glance down at me, eyes gleaming with some kind of light, and I could almost hear her, feel her protective stance above me, and I would slip back to sleep, her purring lulling me as much as the sound of the wind in the banana tree.
This was a regular feature of our lives together, months of unrestrained love and guardianship.
It’s funny in a way, because in both readings with Astra, she told me cats and I have a strong spiritual connection. I know I needed protection, and I know cats have powerful protective powers, because they are magical creatures. Don’t believe me? Look it up, the ancient Egyptians believed and honoured the sacred powers of cats as creatures of magical properties. One of their goddesses was named Bastet and represented by a cat. I had a cat named Bastet years ago as well. She was moody goddess if ever there was.
Is Samba here to help in the protecting me? I have read people describe cats as being able to guard your physical body while your spirit travels wherever it goes during sleep, or trance states. I believe it. I believe in the wisdom of the Ancestors. Cat Haters are missing out.
Samba is like her… has that kind of energy, the same kind that Sweet Girl had. Only a matter of weeks ago, I said I wanted another cat. and here one has taken up residence. I believe in synchronicity as well.
I had a friend that told me once he believed that cats were a part of ourselves, from our past lives, experiences and such, invested into the bodies of cats and dogs, and that’s why they associate so closely with humans, and why some of them have such a deep connection to us.
My brother says he thinks cats and dogs were articulate, highly evolved once, and that something did, caused them to lose some of their abilities.
I like my friend’s theory better, but some of my experiences with cats makes me certainly consider my brother’s idea as well. Somehow they makes sense to me.
In any case, I have been acquired. I have been adopted and claimed by a cat named Samba, and I willingly agree to it. I suspect I shall soon be doing it’s bidding as payment for services rendered. **smiling**