Once upon a time, I had the misconception that magic was fake and witchcraft was evil and, since witches always have cats with them, cats had to be evil too. I didn’t used to like cats. I used to think they were sneaky and felt uncomfortable around them.
Then I made a discovery...
Magic is real. Magic is what I make of it. And, witches? They are real too. And, more often than not, they are good. Therefore, logically speaking, cats would be good too. So I made a conscious decision to learn to like cats. This learning led to liking which has led to longing for one of my own... a sleek black animal with green eyes.
I was recently musing about my change of heart where magic, witches and cats are concerned. I wondered how it related to me, to my actual Self. Then, the other day, I was watching a cat who is a familiar around my apartment complex and whom I call Boots because she is solid black with white “boots” on each of her paws.
Boots was being very catlike, stalking a bird who was unknowingly busying itself in a bush. She stood very still, crouched low to the ground, ears twitching, tail straight in the air waving gently as though being brushed by the wind. Boots was intent on the motion in the bush, but the bird was completely unaware of the presence of Boots.
She took a step toward the bush, deliberately delicate with her paws raising daintily one after another and moving only millimeters a step. Each motion was calculated and so infinitely subtle that, had I not been watching her, I would not have known she had moved. Her eyes never left her target.
I could feel the tension strung tightly through her body, almost hear her thoughts. The closer she got to closing in on her prey, the more tightly wound she became. I could sense the impending need for Boots to pounce. Suddenly, the oblivious bird chose to move on in that instant and casually flew away.
Boots straightened up and, with a shrug-like motion, stepped lightly upon the tarp covering the swimming pool. She chose to cross at the juncture between the upper and lower pools, where the tarp is stretched tautly about five feet above the water in the lower pool. She walked across nonchalantly and quite regally as though it was simply a walk in the park. On the other side, she disappeared through a gape between the pools to lounge hidden beneath the canopy.
In that moment, I finally understood my growing affection for these mysterious creatures. No matter how much we humans think we have domesticated these magnificent beings, they are still wild. Cats are brilliant enough to let us think we are their masters, while we feed them, care for them and keep them safe. But, when the humans are away, the cats will be cats. They will play. They will hunt. And they will be wild. Their wild natures will never be fully tamed.
I watched Boots and realized I saw in her what I wanted for myself – I want to be catlike.
Being catlike means my natural self will never be broken again. My natural curiosity, my authenticity, my need to play, my protective instincts – all of that will be never be denied again. My focus will remain steady and I will walk with calculated precision. I will return each day to my home, grateful for it’s warmth, it’s sanctity and the nourishment I find there. I will purr with contentment when stroked in affection. I will go forward allowing those around me to feel comforted in my apparent domestication, while at the same time knowing a part of me will always remain genuinely – and wondrously – undomesticated.
And when the humans are away? Ah, yes. When the humans are away, I will be delightfully feral.
©Angie K. Millgate 12/12/06
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