1994

Perelandra Processes for Animals
A SMALL, JUMPY, FREAKED-OUT BALL OF FUR
by Foxy Red-Spot

"I am a four-footed killing machine. My territory is the whole world. Nestled in the grass in protective camouflage, I pounce, torture, maim and despatch with the best of them. I am kitten, see me roar." *

I wasn't always this powerful. In the beginning, I was a throwaway cat. Found on a road and brought to a kind cat lady, I could barely walk. My neck was twisted and what walking I did was in circles. Two possible owners later, I was taken to one of the best Feldenkrais teachers in the country and she got my head on straight, after working on me for only an hour! She taught me to walk and go up and down stairs, but she couldn't keep me. So, off I went to somebody else who loved me very much, but cried and sneezed when she held me. So once again, I was on the move. The teacher lady and the sneeze lady strong-armed a friend of theirs into taking me "for just a while." She had had two big old cats, one of whom had recently died. Naturally, they thought, she now needed a new kitten to fill the void. I came to this new cat lady late one night. She knew of my troubles and had agreed to take me on as a "fixer-upper" to be given to someone else as soon as I was well. I stepped out of the dark and into her living room, and she finally got a good look at me in all my glory. What she saw was a scrawny little kitten with no fur on its back legs, underbelly or ears. Its eyes were runny with red-brown liquid and on further examination, its ears were seen to be filled with crusty black stuff. A small jumpy, freaked-out ball of fur or stubble, as the case may be. At least my head was somewhat on straight, though it still had a tendency to tilt a little. The teacher lady volunteered to continue to work with me if the new lady would just take me. She agreed and my fixing up began.

During the next few weeks, her biggest challenge was me and my biggest challenge was her 13-year-old, 22-pound cat named Mouser. He was part wild cat and part tabby, and it took some quick meowing on my part to convince him I wasn't a rodent. But that's another story.

The first thing this new lady did was open something she called a coning; an Animal Healing Coning. It was like walking into a nice, safe space, and I immediately relaxed. Muscles that were knotted up unknotted, and I felt myself calm down. I could look around without crying. It felt good. After that nice experience, she gently picked me up and then rudely dropped some awful tasting stuff in my mouth. My body seemed to like the effects of taking these drops, but my tongue was not at all impressed.

The next week went by in a blur. My days were taken up with exploring the new house and looking out the window. I could watch the huge old cat sitting at the edge of the tall grass. He would stare hard into the grass, then hunker down — after which he would take a four-foot leap into the air and disappear into that mysterious sea of green. A minute or two later, the grass would part, and he would emerge with a brown wriggling package in his mouth. Two tosses in the air and three bites later, the package was gone and Mouser was staring hard into the high grass again.

A few weeks ago, I heard the neighbor boys down the hollow talking about going out for fast food. Well, I now know that that old cat Mouser had fast food down to an art form. Exploring, watching and waiting to get out there myself: that's how I spent my days. In the morning and the evening, the cat lady would play games with me and touch me all over (she calls it "petting") and then she would inevitably grab me up in the middle of something fun and drop that awful stuff in my mouth. Oh, she was quick and tricky, and could get that stuff down my throat faster than I could spit it out. But I can't hold it against her because it seemed to begin to make a difference.

She called that stuff "essences" and every day she would give them to me. (Ptui! Gak!) She also kept doing those safe-space things(the Animal Healing Conings)and when I was off playing, she would often sit and talk out loud to herself about "Foxy's microbes". I couldn't figure that one out until the old cat finally informed me that I had been given a name . . . Foxy Red-Spot. I still didn't know what microbes were, but I guess I had some and my cat lady seemed to know what to do about them.

The days went by fast and I got stronger. I also got warmer and I realized my fur had begun to grow back. My ears stopped itching and my eyes began to clear up a little. Oh yes, I forgot to mention, I had diarrhea (not a subject cats like to talk about) and it finally stopped, and I even started to put on a little weight.

Soon I got to go outside. The big cat stopped spitting at me and began to teach me to hunt. Life seemed to me to be a continuous stream of joyous discoveries, not the least of which was clams — or to be precise, clam juice. One day my cat lady opened a can of something and, looking down at me, gave me a spoonful of it in a dish.

Ecstasy! Ambrosia! Clams!! I couldn't contain myself. I danced around her feet, my mouth watering, making loud meowings until she gave me more. Then, she got a gleam in her eye and reached for the brown essence bottle. In the past, this would be the point where she would snatch me up and put that stuff in my mouth, but this time, she dropped it in the dish with the clam juice and without even thinking, I sucked it up. From that day to this, I've never stopped dancing for my essences!

Boy, I thought my cat lady was smart. She could make me take essences and get me well and talk with nature. I was very, very impressed . . . until Mouser explained that my cat lady didn't invent this stuff herself. It turns out her boss taught her to do all these things. Mouser said her boss lady worked with nature to come up with all these great ways to make things balanced and healthy. I think I would like this person because she sounds a lot like a cat. Mouser told me her name was Machaelle and that she was very little and always right. Yep . . . sounds like a cat to me!

Well, I've been with my cat lady just over a year now and I think it's safe to say that she's decided to keep me. My health is good, my coat glows and I've learned a lot about killing small animals. All the stuff (processes) my cat lady has done for me over the past many months has given me a sense of well-being and balance. I only have one complaint: my left eye. Yes, my left eye is still a little runny with that reddish-brown liquid — sometimes it gets better and is almost gone, and then it comes back. I was beginning to feel like a failure . . . until today.

Today I overheard something that made both my eyes see red. (Now, cats don't usually eavesdrop because for the most part, we don't give a rat's petoot — we're too busy eating them — about what goes on in anyone else's life, but . . . ) I had just finished pulling the legs off a cricket when I heard my name mentioned by my cat lady who was talking on the phone.

"Yeah, poor Foxy, I had her eye almost totally cleared up. I started an Organizing Process chart for her about a month ago and it was going great. I was on the fifth step and just had a simple Microbial Balancing to do and I just spaced out and then blew it off. I could have checked with nature about the timing to get back on track, but I just procrastinated. So, yeah . . . two weeks have gone by, Foxy's eye is gooey again and I'm going to have to start the damn thing over!"* Well, when I heard that, I couldn't stop myself. I rushed over and attacked her ankle.

I'm outside now and I'll go back inside when I've calmed down. Oh . . . well . . . my cat lady is only human and how can they be expected to understand the intricacies of timing and the brilliance of nature's balance? Hopefully, she will do a calibration for herself, focusing on her inability to finish my Organizing Process chart and then we can finally get this eye cleared up.

Well, if any of you cats out there are reading this: be sure you tell your cat people about this Machaelle woman who is small, but almost always right, because she seems to know a lot about helping cats and humans become healthy and get a lot more balanced. And take it from me, if you are feeling balanced, you can kill a lot more mice!

* Cat lady note: When I said that " I'll have to start the damn thing over! " I was making an assumption that may or may not have been true. What I needed to do was test to find out what to do next on Foxy's chart.