The hawk.

So, you know how sometimes things seem to be so difficult. You get discouraged and kind of give up hope. In order for cats to get like this we would have to be really hungry, cold, or sick. But people are more susceptible to emotional turmoil. We cats are more in the moment, and we are also much more spiritually connected than people seem to be. People tend to worry on the one hand or be regretful on the other. So they obsess about the future or the past, and often miss their opportunity to enjoy and to be in the present moment. Mike had gotten like this not long ago. He was even restless in the night, scratching his nose, tossing and turning, and being a general disturbance to my rest. To be truthful, there were strange signs. The moon a few nights ago was bigger and brighter than I’ve ever seen. I could smell fire in the air. It hadn’t rained for over 2 months, and all the animals were coming out where you never see them. I had to be more watchful than ever for coyotes when I was making my nocturnal rounds. The other cats in the house had not noticed much of anything different, but they are so self-absorbed that they wouldn’t. Also, they never go outside. Mike doesn’t trust them to be able to take care of themselves, and rightfully so, I’m sure. But for cats, they are good company when I’m in the house. Like most cats, I really prefer my own company, but there are times when other cats are somewhat more than tolerable. I like my humans very much, and several nights a week I bring them little presents. Not that they appreciate my efforts, but a good rule in life is you should never do something because you expect it to be appreciated by anyone else. You just do it because it’s the right thing to do, or just because you are who you are.

So, Mike seemed angry about something although I couldn’t say what it was. He was having a hard time with acceptance. I heard him tell Judy that he didn’t know how to accept the unacceptable. But I saw him working on it and trying to pray about it and let go of whatever it was. If he hadn’t done this work, I don’t think that the Universe would have sent him a sign. Or if the Universe had sent him the sign, he would not have either noticed it or recognized it as a sign. The other day I saw him coming down the street in his little hamster-mobile. As he turned into the driveway a big red-tailed hawk flew from behind right over his car, over his windshield, and landed in the Japanese magnolia right next to the driveway. Mike stopped his car about halfway up the driveway and looked at the bird through the passenger-side window that he had opened. The  hawk turned and looked at him for the longest time. For me, the moment was clearly less spiritual than it was for Mike. I had hidden myself beneath a boxwood hedge, and although he was no more than 15 feet away from me, he did not notice me. The hawk is not my friend. After  several minutes he flew into the next yard and sat there for the longest time with his back to us paying us no mind whatsoever. The hawk symbolizes power and vision. It’s strong talons and beak can rip apart its prey quickly and easily. It can see at a great distance. People with the hawk spirit are intuitive and visionary. They know their own power and are courageous. Red-tailed hawks tend to mate for life, and the males participate in the care of young. So they also symbolize family and loyalty. I heard Mike tell Judy that seeing the hawk helped him a lot with his attitude. He was going to turn his anger and disappointment into action. So I guess Mike is ready to stop wrestling with his problem and move on to the solution, whatever it might be. Who knows? He might even decide to start writing again. As for me, I’m more than content with my cat spirit, as we cats are the most favored and wise of all God’s creatures. And as far as I’m concerned, the red-tailed hawk can stay far away from here from now on, Mike or no Mike.

So, I suppose I should introduce myself a little more.

So, I suppose I should introduce myself a little more. I am called Black Magic by my guardians. I’m known on the outside by my inner cat name which doesn’t translate well into English, so I won’t try. But I am well known in my little neighborhood community. I live with Mike and Judy and their 3 other cats. I have special status among the cats for many reasons, chief among them is that I am who I am. But the most obvious difference, other than my genealogy, is that I’m the only one that gets to go out-of-doors. Strangely enough, the other 3 cats have never even tried to go out. I’ll tell you more about them later although there is little to tell. My grandfather, Black Jack, was a very well-regarded and famous cat. You may have heard of him, because he had the gift that he passed on to me of facility with human language, and he wrote his autobiography. He lived with a fellow named Archie for many years, and then with Archie’s nephew Lenny and his family when Archie got too old and sick to take care of a cat. You can check out Black Jack’s autobiography if you’re interested, but I’m not necessarily recommending that you do so. Franz Liszt was once asked if he was going to write his autobiography, and he said that it was enough to have lived his life, he didn’t have to write about it as well. But writing is a compulsion with some people, and apparently, also, with some cats. I don’t think a dog would ever have to worry about writing an autobiography. A dog wouldn’t know where to start, but I have to admit that what they lack in smarts they make up in loyalty.

So, Black Jack was my grandfather and he used to hang out with Grits, my grandmother. My mother was Black Angel. I have no clue who my father was; more about that another time. Black Angel was a great mom. She didn’t exactly live with anybody, but pretty much ran the streets. She had great survival skills and lived a long time for a strictly outdoor cat. She never picked up human language. She really had no use for it, and I don’t think she had the gift anyway. I always knew I was a little on the different side because I always understood what people were saying to each other. Mom told me about my grandfather. Of course, I heard a lot about him from the other cats in the area as well. When I was about 8 months old I wandered quite far away from my neighborhood and was picked up and brought to a cat shelter. That was an experience I wouldn’t care to repeat. Other cats are okay, but I need my solitude. Luckily, Judy was volunteering at the shelter. She recognized what a handsome and all around marvelous cat I am, and she brought me home to live with her and Mike. And as I said, with the other 3 cats who, as I also said, I’ll tell you what little there is to know about them later.

I get in and out of the house through a cat door. I wear a clever little device around my neck that sends a radio signal to the door to unlock and open it so I can get through. This keeps the other 3 cats in and the neighborhood cats and raccoons out. There is an abundance of squirrels, chipmunks, mice, and other little critters to maintain my interest and keep up my skills. I get fed pretty well in the house, so sometimes I just bring my little trophies home as a present for Mike and Judy. They seem to prefer it if I leave the presents outside, although when I bring them in the other cats get to play with them. They’re particularly interesting to play with if they’re still alive and moving around. The other cats think I’m some kind of a God. Indoors, my specialty is sleeping. I know I sleep over half my life away. But sleep is a gift from the Universe, and it is wonderful. My dreams carry me to marvelous places, sometimes.  I will probably tell you about some of this from time to time. But now, it’s time for a nap.

So, let’s get started.

So, for quite some time I have considered putting my unique skills to use. My grandfather, Black Jack, was the first we know of who had human language skills, and he put them to good use. At the time he was living with Lenny Solomon and trapped in the house. For many years he had been an indoor-outdoor cat. With the freedom to explore the outside world, he was never at a loss for interesting things to do. However, when his guardian, Archie, became too ill to take care of him, he went to live with Lenny and his family. He spent many hours entering his life story and his thoughts on Lenny’s computer. Neither Lenny nor the rest of his family knew anything about this until after Black Jack had already gone on to the next world. There was quite a stir when Lenny found the file. It was eventually published as the Autobiography of a Georgia Cat, but not surprisingly, practically nobody has read it.

I think it would be fun for me to write my ideas down as they come to me and as I go through my own life as an indoor-outdoor cat in Marietta, Georgia. In order to benefit the rest of the English-speaking world, I have decided to publish a blog. In a way, I don’t care if anybody reads it or not. As a cat, I am entirely satisfied with myself already. But as I said, I think it will be fun. To some extent I am going to need Mike’s help with this whole process. But he promised that he would publish my words without any alteration or editorial content of his own. We will see if he keeps his word about this. One thing I am somewhat curious about is whether there are other cat bloggers out there who might write comments about my blogging. We shall see. So I think I’m ready to start. But first, I think I will take a nap.