Cats Tales by Sara Wright

Awakening to an image
cattails in the marsh?
When I drive by
curled brown rushes
crush stiffened
 seed swords
 a few gray puffs rising
  under sail
dull brown capsules
 cracked by winter cold
opalescent ice crystals
mirror solid gray sheets
stretch across the horizon
Why then
 cattails in my dreams?

Two days later
Lynx strides by the window
self-possessed, tufted ears
erect fine points,
  feathery furred
 paws sliding
over frozen snow
striped buff and coal
 rounding
the corner a
  sinewy vision
   of serpentine grace
 purpose unveiled
 she picks up the trail
avian hieroglyphics
lead her on
   my wild turkeys
freeze
perch high
in the trees
a forest of eyes
peer down through
evergreen boughs

Cats can climb.

---

Working Notes:

 One morning I awakened with an image of cattails that puzzled me. I felt the usual unease because cats in general made me nervous for reasons I will explain. Should I write about cattails I wondered as I drove by the pond. They looked so withered. No. The image faded without my understanding what precipitated it.

Now I think I know.

Cats were coming into my life again.

Every winter I feed wild turkeys who were coming to the window twice a day for food. Before shivering ice reclaimed my paths, I saw dozens of fox tracks crisscrossing snowshoe paths and what looked like a few large, rounded bobcat or lynx tracks. I hadn’t seen either wild cat for years, assuming that a single wild feline was passing through. The foxes must be the threat.

 Yesterday, I was peering into the open woods wondering where the turkeys could be around 1 PM, their usual afternoon feeding time, when a magnificent wild cat appeared just under the window. I grabbed the camera as the animal followed the turkey trail into the woods. Strikingly long ear tufts, lush round paws and a totally black tail as well as the size and legs of the wild cat helped me determine that what I had probably seen was a Canadian Lynx. The animal wore a thick marbled coat splashed with dark spots that I couldn’t help admiring. I just hoped the turkeys were not hiding nearby but had fled the vicinity because these cats could climb trees with ease although supposedly, they didn’t hunt in trees.

I developed a very ambivalent relationship with cats after taking in the last stray kitten that had been abandoned. Up until that time I had cats all my life. Zoe was the most vicious killer and maimer of birds that I had ever known. When she attacked my beloved cardinal’s fledgling, I witnessed with horror the parents devoted attempts to feed and protect their dying chick over a period of days before death intervened. This drama took place just outside my door under the nearest pine trees. Although I kept Zoe confined in the house during this period, after the chick died, I released my cat from her indoor prison. The adult cardinals continued to stay in the pines grieving for days; their first clutch joined them. Five cardinals in all.

This bird – cat trauma so unhinged me that it destroyed my relationship with Zoe. I could never look at this devoted feline companion again without experiencing sickening grief and anger. It gradually became obvious that I was going to have to find a home for this animal. It took a whole year. I didn’t know then that cats were the number one killer of birds in this country. Up until this point I’d overlooked their ambivalent ‘nature’ which occasionally included injuring and playing with hapless creatures before killing them. I had never had a ruthless killer as a devoted companion until Zoe.

Was it this incident that triggered the heightening of my awareness? I noted that some women who had cats also embodied certain cat -like characteristics Throughout my life I have been the recipient of women who strike in the dark without warning tearing flesh with veiled barbs. Rip raw skin with bloody claws. Play with vulnerability. Twist truths with a knife held to an open heart. Use power to control through stealth and silence.  Virtually all the women who had betrayed me during my life had cats.

This is ironic because I consider myself to be a feminist, in theory at least. I certainly have tried to be an advocate for women having worked at the abused women’s advocacy project for several years. I also taught Women’s Studies for a long time and counseled other writers and artistic women.

 Many women, including feminists use lions, leopards, panthers, cougars, etc. as images of authentic woman power. We also see them emerging as mythic deities. It’s important to remember that  any kind of power must be tempered with awareness and humility. Acting out of pure instinct can be very destructive. One side of cats and cat power is certainly positive. Cats are intelligent and make devoted companions. They are clever, devious, efficient predators and can take care of themselves. But power of any kind has two sides, and the dark side of cat power is often hidden, accepted. or simply ignored. Cats  survive in the wild by their instincts, but women need to combine instinct with compassion and awareness before acting out.

 The same day I saw the Lynx my closest woman friend ( also a devoted cat lover) and I crossed another threshold deepening our friendship through compassionate witnessing of our respective perspectives, so it seemed as if this wild cat and my friendship with this woman was also encouraging me to delve deeper…

 I have learned how to become accountable for the negative parts of myself as a part of my own self-development (shadow work) although I would not have named  some of this shadow work ‘cat -like’ until now. I own my behavior even if I am not proud of myself. Because I take responsibility for my actions it surprises me that the projection of murderous impulses (hidden or overt) stayed glued to all felines after Zoe. The only reason I can think of is that the trauma I suffered with Zoe was still holding me back. This animal broke my heart with her cruelty, and I could never rationalize that it was ‘just her nature’. Today I can. I also recognize that the first killer in my life was my mother – It was just her ‘nature’. Like Zoe. Did I mention that my mother had a cat named Crazy who lived under her bed?

Lynx reminded me how much I admire all cats and although I might not choose another feline companion, I could still appreciate all cats wild or tame.

I just wish my turkeys felt safe enough to come back.