After I had my epiphany at meditation, a black cat walked into the Foundation of Light building, meowing loudly and wandering from room to room. It looked lost and bewildered.
M picked up the cat and said it seemed thin and must be hungry.
I had had two beloved black cats previously in my life, and had been talking about getting another one since Adrian died two years ago.
Feeling slightly disoriented after my epiphany, I took the cat from M’s arms.
“You need to take her home,” said M, after hearing my story.
“But if she belongs to someone . . .”
“I will hear about it if someone is looking for her, and let you know.”
M runs the place and lives nearby.
My daughter told me she doesn’t believe in coincidence.
One of my brothers is always talking about the synchronicity in his life.
The first thing I did when I got the cat home was to close the door to the guest room, since I had cleaned it for my sister’s upcoming visit. Then I put out a bowl of water and rushed to the grocery store to pick up kitty litter and food.
When I got back, the cat was lying on my bed. I lay down next to her, snuggling close. A warm body next to mine—I haven’t felt that in a long time.
The cat began to purr.
“What are you going to name her?” my sister asked when she called a few minutes later.
“I thought of Nirvana, but maybe not.”
The cat was affectionate and wanted to be with me all the time, following me from room to room. But she was well behaved. She didn’t jump on the counter or table. She didn’t scratch.
The timing was bad, though. My sister was coming and we were going away for a few days the following week. I had scads of work to do, plus prep for the visit and trip. I didn’t have time to devote to this cat.
Did I have to always follow the plan? Couldn’t I be open to this gift?
After a few hours, the honeymoon ended. The cat jumped on the counter whenever we were in the kitchen. She knocked things off my desk and even jumped on my piano keyboard while I was trying to play.
Hunks of her long black hair started appearing throughout the house.
As the cat became more at home, I became more disoriented. I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t get anything done. I felt as if I were in a fog.
How would I manage this cat?
The next morning I decided I couldn’t keep the cat, and emailed M about my decision.
I worried that I might have to bring the cat to the SPCA. But she was loving and sweet and beautiful. Someone had taken good care of her. “She’ll find a good home,” I reassured myself.
An hour later, M called me. “It’s OK,” she said. “We’ve found the owners. They’re going to come over later, so just bring the cat back here.”
And that’s how I learned I don’t really want another black cat.
Up next: The Stones
