Article by Marc Aupiais
We took him, the ex-kitty, current cat from friends, who like many white middle class people, had had enough of this terrible illicit lover of a land. They immigrated to Australia, and the kitty cats were gonna go bye bye at the SPCA, via lethal injection. In a move animal rights activists would applaud, we took him in, along with the older cat. Both were over 8 years old at the time. The SPCA would have killed them within 3 weeks as no one would have taken them in.
He used to be wild, and he used to be aggressive, but like all animals in our care, he soon was sentimental and loving, he loved to be the centre of attention.
He doesn't like his bed time, but he's a terrorist in the morning if he's not locked up... not to me of course. He climbs on my bed and stares at me, waiting for me to get up and feed him, with a very affectionate stare.
When there was a snake in our house, the cats were a sign. They were very nervous, though it was up to me to discover it late at night while climbing the stairs barefoot up to bed, I nearly picked that one up, thinking it paper, and in need of being put where old paper is put. When I, Marc Aupiais, shouted that there was a snake, my voice went high. I stayed a few stairs above it, to watch where it went.
We thought, on a later date: it may be a snake when he refused to go to bed, when he didn't want to snuggle up in his basket, the linen basket, or that space behind the dustbin.
We searched, but found no snake. He was nervous, and kept running out. He rushed to the garage, and stayed there a while. Eventually, the door was opened, and he was allowed to spend the night outside. Frantic kitty cat, was sure to do so, though he's the age of a grandfather in cat years now.
It turned out there had been a tremor. There is often blasting on the hill I live on, as new large houses are built for politicians and the like. Yet, this wasn't blasting. It, amazingly... was a tremor, at about 3:00 AM in the morning. He'd rushed away at I assume just after 10:00 PM last night.
Oversized fur-ball, who for his own good: is on a vet prescribed diet, had sensed the tremor early, and had rushed to get outside to safety, it turns out.
If we believe animals can sense disasters, mankind ignoring all- surely some of us can sense what others don't. Should you not sense God in church or prayer, should you not feel him in the Eucharist, and in every page of a Catholic bible, or Vatican II, perhaps you, have lost your sense of truth. Reignite it, listen to your intuition, to that inner sense, which tells us what is truth, and if we are of truth or sin. Some may be more sensitive than others, but everyone has intuition, conscience! ...truth!
Sometimes, what the small, oversized fur-ball senses, I cannot, it is not to my shame. But, with natural disasters, sensing changes in animal behaviour- it can save one's very skin and blood.
And yet, the night breeze, I sensed, it became a hurricane in the morning, my dream, in it as though truth itself, is to know that night breeze, as though in romance- to romance the mystery of the hidden truth. For I love the night breeze, which so few yet can sense.
Monday, February 15, 2010
A tremor and an oversized ex-kitty cat
Posted by Marc Evan Aupiais at 10:14 AM
Labels: animals, extra-sensory, golden rule of love, intuition, love, natural disasters, Tempest Poetic and literary works, truth
Location: Florida, Roodepoort, South Africa
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