Mystical Visions of Cats

Her husband had a manic passion for things like earthworms, hot compost, mushrooms, silly goats, and herb boxes which most suburban and city homes did not have in mind in their design. So, rural they went for their first home purchase. By her husband’s lead, they were going to turn their new home into something so much more than the barren plot of brown wasteland that it currently was. One day, it would be a food forest, an eco-home, a garden with not only pretty things but edible ones too.

It was their first week in their new home. The young woman took another sip of her chocolate roasted coffee and gazed out a window to the backyard, admiring the morning light and east wind that made her multi-colored prayer flags dance.

Then suddenly, something quick caught her eye. It was furry, four-legged, black and brown striped, and bounded across the back deck without making any of the creaking sounds the wood planks usually made when stepped on. She gasped with excitement and put down her clay mug on the farm table behind her. As quiet and as still as she could be, she waited, enamored, peering out the window, reflexes ready to hopefully catch another glimpse of the majestic creature.

After no more than a minute, the cat reappeared. It floated up to the back deck railing and walked along its flat surface. The cat then stopped at the far-right corner, sat its fluffy butt down, and looked towards the house windows. The cat sensed the young woman’s presence inside, and there was a look of wanting in the cat’s intelligent, emerald green eyes.

The young woman swiftly retrieved her little black notebook and sketch pencil from her office desk in the other room and returned to the windowsill. Most everybody that knew her knew she liked to draw for fun. She sketched all kinds of things – plants, animals, people, buildings, geometric shapes. It was cathartic for her to hush her anxious mind chatter and let the figures appear, line by line, with her black charcoal pencil scratching all over creamy, white pages.

But what most everybody did not know about her was that this particular little black book of hers was reserved exclusively for drawings of cats. They were sketches of cats she had seen in real life. Of course, she didn’t draw every single cat she ever saw, just the ones who gave her visions. These visions only happened at random and occurred for reasons unbeknownst to her. The vision’s imagery was something she could never force either. Her husband knew about this unusual phenomenon, but she kept it a secret from everybody else for fear they would label her a ‘crazy cat lady’ or worse, just ‘crazy’ itself.

The first cat-induced vision happened to her about five years prior. She was out for a walk through a grove of historic eucalyptus trees. During her walk, she spotted an orange tabby cat sitting on a communal bench along the trail. She paused a moment to observe the cat who was contentedly basking in the warm, spring sun. As her senses soaked in the scene, an image spontaneously burst in her mind’s eye of a very old, monk-like man walking calmy on a trail in mountains so epically high that they tickled heaven itself. The image was so vivid and so visceral. It felt alive. She then rushed home and immediately took out her little black notebook and sketched the image of the orange tabby cat on the bench imbued with all the artistic essence of the other image of the monkish man in the mountains. Bah-ja, she named him. By drawing him, she felt she had paid her respects to whatever had just happened to her.

The second vision happened when she was leaving the dentist office during the mid of a winter snowstorm. As she was walking along the shoveled path to her car, a Siamese cat came from the pine trees behind the building and made its way through a patch of untouched snow to greet her. Its vertical pupils were barely visible from contracting from so much bright, white light. As the young woman peered into the cat's blue eyes, the sudden image of an elvish woman cloaked in velvet burst into her mind’s eye. The elvish woman was undoubtedly skilled with bow and arrow and knew the forest’s medicines well. After the vision of the elvish warrioress had faded and she gave some loving pets to the Siamese, she got into her car, skipped the grocery store, and drove straight home to sketch the scene of the Siamese cat infused with the elvish woman’s essence in her little black notebook. Dierdre, she named her.

And thus, a new habit was formed – she carried her little black notebook everywhere, ready to draw and name the mystical, feline-inspired visions whenever they struck her.

Presently, the black and brown striped cat on her back deck railing was now licking its chops and cleaning behind its ears. The young woman watched the cat and waited to see if any vision would occur. The cat then hopped off the deck railing and walked head-on towards the window she stood at. There was something unusual about its gait; its belly wobbled dramatically from side to side. Once the cat got closer, the young woman saw the cat had pointy, pink-red nipples. This cat was a nursing mama! She also noticed the beautiful markings on the brown fur in between her eyes – black, precisely etched, upside down triangles stacked upon one another. The mama cat then plopped her plumpness in front of the window and made direct eye contact with the young woman on the other side.

Instantly, the young woman became heavily intoxicated with a vision. Misty violets and the blackest of blacks perfumed the edges of an exotic, gold labyrinth that was floating in the void of the cosmos. The labyrinth was shaped like a woman’s face with wild, dreaded hair and was breathing. The maze of paths curved out in all directions. It reminded her of Amazonian treasure. A warm, pleasant, liquid electricity then pooled at the base of the young woman’s spine.

When she opened her eyes to exit the vision, the mama cat was slowly walking away. The cat then jumped off the deck and slid underneath it, out of sight. The young woman burned to go straight to her sketchbook, but her maternal instincts abated her. A kitten litter rescue mission might be imminent. So, she slipped on her rubber sandals and went out the back door to find out.

The bramble of weeds and sharp pebbles poked her stomach and hands as she lowered herself onto the dirt to look underneath the raised deck. She cranked her neck up and swept her gaze from side to side to locate the feral mama.

And there she was, with three of her kittens at the furthest, deepest part of the deck up against the wall of the house. All three kittens’ eyes were crusted closed from infection. They were dehydrated, sick, and heat exhausted. Two of the kittens looked just like their mama – brown and black stripes like tigers with triangle markings in between their eyes. The third kitten was mostly white with light grey spots like a cheetah. They were all so gorgeous. The mama cat led her blind kittens along the wall of the house until one by one, they disappeared into a hole at the base of the house.

The young woman blasted up from her lowered plank position and dashed for the shed to grab the power drill. Her plan was to unscrew the deck’s wooden flanks to create an opening above the hole. Then, she would perch like a gargoyle at the opening and bait the poor kittens and mama out with stinky tuna. Then finally, she would take them to the local university’s cat rescue where they would receive all the necessary medical attention, including spay and neuter, and get adopted out to loving families.

Immediately after dropping the first dollop of tuna, the mama cat emerged from the hole with one kitten beside her. As they licked the tuna, the young woman lowered both her hands down at a snail’s pace and bam, scruffed both kitties and rushed them to the guest bathroom for temporary keeping. Both mama and baby were an easy scruff, and the next two kittens went just as smoothly. Within ten minutes, the mama cat and the three kittens were safely inside the bathroom lapping up fresh, cool water and feasting on salty tuna.

Although she successfully caught all the kittens she saw, she had to check that there weren’t any more hiding in the hole. And the only way to find out was by sticking her hand up through the crack and in.

The thought of sticking her hand inside a dark hole made her shudder with terror. Back in her husband’s homeland, people stuck their hands inside dark holes for fun. Well, they stuck their hands inside log holes to catch catfish, to be exact. They called it ‘noodling’. When she had taken her first trip out to meet his family, they took her floating and fishing in the marshlands and proudly showed off their sport. They laughed at how creeped out and visibly nauseated it made her.

She debated back and forth whether or not she should stick her hand inside the hole. What if there was a snake in it? Black widows? Dead things? How big was the hole even? After about thirty minutes of deliberation while squatting over the hole and sweat from the late morning sun dripped down her spine, she mustered up the good ol’ courage of fuck it and stuck her hand inside the hole.

To her relief, the hole was small and empty. With a few hand pats, she felt from edge to edge and from front to back. It was no bigger than the inside of a school backpack. She then patted along the height of the walls, and her hand bumped against a metal object. She felt the metal object all over and guessed it to be a cashier’s box, the type she had used with her mom at bake sales in elementary school. The box was just small enough to squeeze through the slat opening, so she pulled it out.

The metal box was taupe colored and tattered with dents and scratches. When she opened it, her brain took a moment to register that there were large stacks of cash inside the box! She shook her head to sober herself out of denial and began counting the money. There were only hundred-dollar bills, the antiquated kind that had more intricately embroidered edges. She counted it several times to be sure of the amount - $20,0000 - and to be sure that it was indeed real money.

Once she was certain, her eyes lit like fireworks and her lips spread into a smile so big it could be seen from a mile away. When her husband and her had bought the house, the realtor told them that the previous owner was a 92-year-old woman who died peacefully in her sleep. They were told she had no siblings, no husband, and no children. Her only relatives were distant cousins.

Altogether, the young woman summed all the information up to mean that it was permissible for her husband and her to claim the money as theirs.

“He’s going to be so excited!” she squealed out loud to herself, jumping up and down with a couple thousand dollars of cash spread out in her hands like cards.

She then emboldened her stance and took in the view of the entire back yard. “First, we’ll get chickens and a chicken coop! A coop that no bobcat will ever be able to break into!” she proclaimed.