It's dinnertime, and as I
pull my car into my unpaved country driveway, Gaia is waiting for me, nine
pounds of sienna fur and intelligent eyes that see into my soul. I sing to her,
we play; her purring brings me joy. But when I first moved here, this cat and
her gray companion were more a duty than a source of pleasure.
The former tenant, Brian,
had begged me to feed them, even leaving behind a hefty bag of cat food. They
weren't his cats, he explained. They'd befriended his cat, Sunny, and soon he
was feeding all three. When he moved, he was torn: the other two belonged on
the land, a twenty-acre parcel consisting of seven dwellings. Yet they'd become
accustomed to eating at Brian's cottage. So I inherited them, grudgingly.
Connecting with my medicine animal
Initially I ignored the
pair lounging on my deck, though the orange cat was slowly winning my heart.
One day I bought a cat-sized bowl, placed it outside my front door and filled
it with Rice Dream, a milk substitute that she lapped up eagerly. I intuited she
was female, yet Brian had called her Fred, which didn't suit her at all. She
was one with her environment, this little wild cat, a natural embodiment of the
living Earth. So I started calling her Gaia. And our pas-de-deux began.
Gaia was at once wild and
wary. She'd tear off like a shot when I approached. Once I called out as she
was sprinting away, "Gaia! You don't need to be afraid of me!" She
froze mid-flight, turning to look at me appraisingly. After that, our dance grew
more intimate.
One night our relationship
took a quantum leap, thanks to a little Divine intervention. I heard the
telltale rustling, followed by a thud that meant "mouse". Sure
enough, in the morning my ceremonial rattle was on the floor, and there were
droppings on my altar and silverware. Disgusted, I thought, "The cat would
sure be helpful here!"
At twilight I heard Gaia
about ten feet away, and spoke to her from my porch: "I'll make a deal
with you. Keep the mice away, and I will feed you." I felt intrinsic agreement
from her.
The Rice Dream gave way to
premium feline fare from my local health food store, and there hasn't been a
mouse in the house since. At first Gaia proudly brought her prey to me for
acknowledgement, often leaving entrails on the porch. I explained that while I
was thrilled with her work, I preferred she dispose of the mice elsewhere. No
more mouse remains appeared on my porch.
Interspecies connection
requires that we humans hone our communication skills. This cat clearly
understands everything I say. I only wish I spoke meow as well as she speaks
English.
Innate intelligence personified
Gaia has been
extraordinarily patient with me, as my primitive human brain struggles to
understand what she's trying to tell me. After the rains started, I heard her
mewing one night and immediately fetched a large box, lined it with an old
towel, and placed it on the porch. But she wouldn't climb in. It took a few
frustrating attempts until I realized I could turn the box on its side, thereby
creating both a door and a roof. Gaia crept inside, and I rejoiced.
She has been one of my
most powerful teachers. If I'm in a nasty mood, she doesn't want to be around
me. If I'm relaxed and cheerful, she's there on the deck. She dislikes being
photographed, and loves it when I sing. I make up little songs about her and
croon them as I stroke her soft fur, feeling the vibration of trust and
pleasure course from her being into my own. One time when I was crying, both
she and her gray companion mewed their compassion. Cats are innate intelligence
personified; it's up to us to decode the message.
Maybe what developing
countries really need are feline ambassadors. Who could refuse that mew of
hunger, the warmth as they rub up against you, the loving eyes gazing
bottomlessly into your own? I know I can't. And I know that when I leave here,
I will continue Brian's legacy. Because, much as I love her, it would be wrong
of me to take Gaia from the land that is home to her, and from her friend. So I
will grieve, and I will remember.
A catalyst is defined as
something that alters the speed of a reaction while itself remaining stable.
She has been as potent a force for my personal growth as any workshop I've
taken, book I've read, or relationship I've shared, and I am profoundly grateful.
I may be buying the cat
food, but Gaia is feeding me.
Coda: A
month after releasing my cottage for a work stint on the East coast, I returned
to see how Gaia was faring. A kindhearted man now inhabited my former space;
when he saw me tentatively approach, he beckoned me in and asked all about
Gaia. "She hasn't come up on the porch yet, but she's been watching
me," he said. He was writing down what I fed her, and I knew she was in
good hands. But his final words moved me to tears: "When she's eating on
the porch again, every now and then I'll bend down and whisper your name."
###
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© 1999-2015 by Amara Rose. All rights reserved.
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