The cat talked tonight and I am certain she’s schizophrenic and thinks people and inanimate objects talk to her.
She came into my life over a year ago shortly after I swore I’d never own a cat. Little did I know this black siren would play my children and enter our family on a bet. We were visiting family in Kentucky and as usual in the country you’ll encounter the barn cats and stray dogs. They honestly balance things for children in the Appalachia. Many of my best friends and confidences were animals. It taught me about unconditional love, trust, and loyalty. You’ll never find friendship like that of animals or someone who gives you and expects nothing but love in return.
So the black siren came as we visited Mam-maw (grandmother) just over a year ago. The kids had played with the cutest litter of stray barn kittens. Something I was happy they got to enjoy, something I cherished from my childhood in Kentucky.
The kids begged and begged for us to take one home. Of course, selfishly I wanted a black cat, always loved them because they shared a stigma. I said if a little black kitten comes tonight we’ll take her home tomorrow. Within minutes, we see this lone black kitten running to the door. “Dammit”, I thought, but honestly I was probably as thrilled as the kids. She was perfect! Absolutely the perfect cat. I agreed, but said we will name her Trubul like trouble, because I’m certain she’ll be nothing but trouble.
Fast forward, she is trying to kill me. Trubul has now been with the family long enough to execute plans. She’s no longer pet, but captive. I am her captor. She is living out the “Unbreakable” story (she watched the movie with me, I saw her snap). She would guard her catnip mouses, plan sniper attacks, plot her escape.
I only knew the cat was as crazy as me when I saw her talking to herself. Yes, talking to herself. She would meow something and in another tone meow back. It would continue, she would fight her alter ego for the one mouse not hidden under a couch. Everyday I accepted my cat was a schizophrenic bipolar cat.
Tonight she turned on me. In retrospect, it was when I tried to meditate, but she turned (see previous post). I was the enemy and we had a battle.
Without it being an “offense worthy of commitment” the cat has the upper hand. I’ll never have a rabbit to chase down a hole, because Trubul will kill it and probably lay it on my pillow, like a horse head from the godfather movie. She runs the house, she has the love, she controls the dog……to be continued CAT……to be continued….