Tag Archives: cats

Surprise Visit

14 Apr

I have four cats, three of whom take walks on the roof and climb in through a skylight.

A tabby cat just peered in through the skylight.

I don’t have a tabby cat.

Talking Cats and Ramen

23 Jan

I dreamed I was one of three people who died and became cats. We were talking cats in the Bardo or some such place. The three of us gathered together, and I was expecting a dharma talk and expected the other two to be Enlightened, so I was surprised that one of them, a chubby white and brown cat—maybe a short-haired Persian—was curled up in a giant bowl of ramen and spilled noodles over the edge and onto the flat white surface we occupied. This cat was somewhat wiggly and, at the end of the dream, was reaching over the edge to grab the spilled ramen.

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Earlier, I dreamed that I just moved to the house in Kansas, but it was a bigger and more elegant house furnished beautifully with antiques, mostly Victorian and Edwardian. Other people were there, but they weren’t nasty relatives harassing me; they were friendly people being nice to me, people I happened to know who’d moved to the area or neighborhood.

I wandered around the house a little and was impressed with the antiques. In one room, I think a bedroom, there was a dark brown cabinet. I thought a yellow armchair was attached to it before I realized that no, it was in front of it.

Someone came to visit, and it was a jerk from elementary and high school, but now he was being nice and polite. In the midst of conversation, I paused and asked, “Wait a minute. You lived in Indiana. What are you doing in Kansas?”

I was so enamored with the house that it wasn’t until toward the end of the dream that I started to remember in the back of my head that this was Kansas, a horrible place full of overt misogynists, and I began to wonder, despite the house, if I could stand dwelling in such a place. (In real life, the answer turned out to be an emphatic NO.)

Dreams of Baubles and Gold

28 Dec

I had a dream in which I was joining a commune or going on a meditation retreat. I was in a plain room with some other people, and a woman in her sixties explained that I couldn’t wear necklaces, so I took out all my necklaces and put them in a bin. I took off my rings and put them in a Ziplock bag, because someone said the only jewelry allowed was earrings, which I don’t wear. But a little later, I noticed people wearing rings, at least wedding rings, so I got a hold of that Ziplock bag and searched for my rings. There were tiny things, such as seed beads. I had found a gold wedding ring recently and was searching for that and other rings I wore to the retreat center, but I searched in vain. I kept searching and searching in that bag.

I had a dream in which I was with a talking cat in a room that didn’t have many furnishings. There was a long table along the far wall. There was a litter box full of used kitty litter… but it also contained tiny gold things here and there. It was gross, but I resorted to using my bare hands to get old the gold stuff, beads and such.

Hmmm, I suspect that last dream has to do with traits that I need to pay more attention to, like being an empath and its significance and working at developing my psychic skills, not throwing them away…or not throwing empath abilities away.

My House has a Wormhole

17 Aug

This house is so weird. The invisible smoke detector is back to chirping, and it seems to be coming from downstairs in the back of the house…just not from any visible smoke detector (and I found 3). That part of the house is in chaos right now, because I had to get everything off the library carpet to redo the floor.

This morning, Virginia followed me when I went to double check a smoke detector that’s upstairs in the back of the house. She asked to get into a crawl space, so I opened a door into one of the crawl spaces, and she walked in.

A few minutes ago, I heard Virginia meowing. I’d forgotten about that crawl space and looked around inside and out, calling for her…before I finally remembered the crawl space and checked it. I haven’t found her yet.

This house has a wormhole or something….

A minute after I wrote the above, Virginia strolled into the living room. Apparently Virginia’s collar is in the wormhole, but I’m glad she isn’t.

Oh, the Dreadful Wind and Rain

7 Apr

The sky is pale grey, almost white, and the Tibetan prayer flags have been dancing in the wind. When I woke, it wasn’t raining yet, and I considered collecting sticks and leaves to put in the yard waste bin, but I figured it’s so windy that dirt would fly into my eyes. After it started pouring outside, I had a better excuse not to do yard work.

I’m more in the mood for writing today, anyway, so I turned on my computer and just finished a round of revising a middle grade fantasy novel. It’s one of those really fun, escapist writing projects, a sequel to my self-published novel Rowanwick Witches, Lesson 1: Spells and Enchantments (which, incidentally, is available on Amazon.com). I currently have this sequel as Lesson 3, but I haven’t written more than thirty pages of Lesson 2. I intend to publish them in order and have Lesson 2 come out in October, even if I have to switch the numbers around.

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The wind was so blustery and forceful today that it blew open the side door, and the cats got out.

Before I knew this, I looked out the kitchen window and saw my panther Haedrig, who’s supposed to stay indoors, out in the back yard, chewing on grass. I hadn’t seen petite Vita all morning. Wondering if they found a secret tunnel, I searched the house…and soon found the wide-open door. I’m guessing I didn’t lock it last time I took recycling through the door, or at least not the deadbolt.

During a downpour, I checked around the house, and Haedrig was back inside, glaring at me resentfully. Vita jumped inside through the open window, which I promptly closed. Back to writing.

Wacky Vita

6 Apr

After the vet said there should be litter boxes on every floor of the house, I bought a small, domed litter box and put it in the upstairs powder room.

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Shortly thereafter, my petite black cat, Vita, reached into the litter box and, using her teeth, she pulled the filter out of the top. She ran off with it, and later I saw her playing with it as though it were a toy mouse. Sometimes I marvel at how cats’ minds work.

Disappointing Cat-Sitter

6 Jan

In the past, I’ve had local friends to cat-sit for me or to exchange cat-sitting services. During my last few years in Portland, I had a frenemy who–though it was a nightmare to be close to her–was a good cat-sitter who spent hours with my cats. (True, because she was sitting in front of my tv much of that time, I received receipts from Amazon video for episodes of The Walking Dead, a show she knew I dislike.)

During my month with family in Phoenix this December and early January, a professional cat-sitter took care of my cats.

I was at the farmer’s market and was in the process of purchasing groceries, when my brother handed me his smartphone and said that my cat sitter called him. I found this very odd; why didn’t she call me instead of him? I also assumed it must be an emergency, since she had said she would communicate via texting.

I took the phone, and next thing I know, this human I hired was castigating me for not answering messages I never received. Meanwhile, I was trying to pay for my groceries via square, and the seller had to ask me at least twice what my zip code was. I must have missed half of what The Cat-Sitter from Hell said, because I paused to give him my zip code before I continued listening to her arrogant and condescending lecture.

At first, when she was blowing up at me for not answering my phone or text messages, I assumed she meant there was a huge emergency and she’d been calling and texting in the twenty minutes since I left the house and began walking my brother’s dog toward the farmer’s market. During that time, my phone was in the bag at my side. I don’t constantly, 24/7, keep my phone in my hand with the volume full-blast. I made the mistake of saying, “I didn’t know you were trying to contact me. My phone is in my bag.” I glanced down toward the purse I was carrying.

In response to that, the bully blew up at me, going on about how I’m her client (who would have guessed, since that’s not how you should treat people who are over-paying you) and should have read the guidelines and follow them and I shouldn’t be leaving my phone in a bag (as if I left it in my suitcase and ignored it since I arrived in Phoenix) and blaah blaah blaah. I went into shock and reverted to being the little girl whom my narcissistic and sociopathic relatives conditioned decades ago. It didn’t occur to me to tell her off right back.

When I said, “You said you would text me,” she continued her tirade, claiming that she’d been texting and calling and emailing. If someone texts me, I receive a notification. If I’d gotten any text notifications from her, I would have noticed. I double-checked my phone and confirmed it. “The last text message from you was on December 8.” She then started rattling off dates that she had allegedly texted me, but I definitely had no such messages, and I had no voice mail messages from her.

My brother then mentioned that he tried to call me yesterday and the call went straight to voice mail. Still in shock that someone I made the mistake of hiring was giving me a condescending lecture and lashing out at me, I quickly realized that I was having a phone problem, and I spelled this out to her. She was somewhat mollified but didn’t apologize. I repeatedly said I’d call Sprint and find out what was going on, and that it must be my phone service.

Throughout this phone call—outdoors in public, surrounded by people and attempting to purchase groceries—I was profoundly agitated. By the time I hung up, I was deeply shaken and wished to hide. I didn’t want to be around humans. I was in this state for the rest of the day, and the indignation and fury didn’t arrive until the evening. It takes a while for shock to wear off, something that toxic humans use to their advantage, because otherwise I’d be able to promptly tell them off.

It seems she was primarily trying to contact me because she didn’t find the huge plastic bin full of kibble, even though I put it in what I thought was an obvious spot.

My brother or sister-in-law suggested that I turn off my phone and turn it back on again, so I did that. Apparently by flying to a different time zone, I stopped receiving calls and text messages.

The cat-sitter eventually gave a gruff and brief half-assed apology in a text message that I did receive; that is, after I turned my phone off, waited a few seconds, and turned it back on, it was flooded with messages. Meanwhile, she should have apologized a lot more profusely than that…not that I’ll ever hire her again under any circumstances. Her arrogance and self-entitlement are extreme, like that of every narcissist and narcissistic sociopath I’ve known; ditto countless white males whether or not they have personality disorders.

It wouldn’t have occurred to me that my phone wasn’t working properly. I had been surprised she didn’t text more frequently, but I guessed it must be a good sign, that everything was going smoothly. I didn’t assume that she would text me every single day, so it didn’t seem suspicious. In short, I didn’t know that my phone wasn’t working, and my having a technological problem is no excuse to lash out at me. I had once or twice considered texting her to see how things were going, but I told myself that she had a very busy schedule and I didn’t want to come across as high-maintenance. I really, really dislike this person and can’t believe I hired her as my cat-sitter—but she had good reviews on Yelp and seemed highly qualified.

On the phone, I was too shocked and confused to point out that her behavior was inappropriate. Toxic people are very fortunate that they typically render me shocked and confused.

I didn’t dump a sociopath, move away from Portland, and practically become a recluse so that other arrogant bullies could give me condescending lectures and castigate me for things beyond my control.

People should treat you with respect if you pay them money…of course, they should do so whether or not you pay them. This should be a no-brainer. This situation further confirmed that humans who have little or no empathy think it’s okay to treat empaths, or at least empaths who are not white males, like crap. Good job making sure I remain jaded.

In hindsight, I should have asked more questions before scheduling with this cat-sitter. It wasn’t until the appointment one week before my trip that she said, “I don’t have time to stay this time of year. I have too many clients.” My outgoing cats need a lot of attention. When I returned, they’d gained a lot of weight and were desperate for attention, suggesting that they spent the month eating and sleeping.

It looks like it will be a long time before I leave town for more than two nights. I still don’t feel ready to make new, close friends; the very thought brings up horrible memories of that frenemy. When I get back into foreign travel–or just visit family in Phoenix: I need to either hire another professional sitter or have reached a stage at which I’m close enough to at least one or two local friends with whom I can exchange cat/dog sitting. But narcissists and narcissistic sociopaths are the humanoids who are drawn to me, and I absolutely want no more such monsters in my life.