Two Tablespoons, Eight Seconds Please
Our animals are our compass. They set the course and the rhythm of our day. After a busy career teaching where change and ‘being on your toes’ were the only constants, it is a blessing to be part of their calm. Living in and for the moment is a precious thing; something I am learning to appreciate more and more with each passing day at Foxhaven. I see the horses quietly grazing, tails flicking. I hear contented ducks chortle in their little pond. My dogs reclining softly snoring about my feet. Kittens perched on the porch railing watching birds.
Patience and trust are part of the equation, as well as being open to new wonders here on the farm. I find that meditation comes easier here. I feel part of the herd, the pack, the flock, the farm. The winged chorus of the hummingbirds with their jeweled iridescence, mountain bluebirds and scrub jays competing for the perfect blue and fledglings of all sorts provide the backdrop for my morning meditation. I begin with a deep breathe of gratitude greeting each day from my sacred spot on our front deck.
A new one has joined us our circle. At first it was just a flash of black speeding off so fast to disappear like a wisp of mist. Was it my imagination? No, I see a face, a sweet face peeking from under the shrubs across the yard. A black and white beautiful tuxedo cat has found us. We named the cat Jessie knowing the name would fit either a boy or girl kitty. I sense a female energy.
At first, Jessie hung out in the equipment barn and barn yard, except in the early mornings when we’d find her peering in our front window when we went out for chores. She seemed to be asking for something or looking for someone. When we came outside she would dart away.
Of course, I put out food, water and a cozy bed out on the deck. She found those easily and after a few weeks began to rub against the window frame as if to say, “Thank you”. Not long afterwards, she began to hang out just out of arms reach. For food, you say. Yes, but I feel it was more than that simple. Jessie began to weave in and around my legs and mew. Jessie would follow me around mewing. What was she saying? Did she have kittens? We looked everywhere and no bairn.
Mari and Rita, our domesticated barn cats, were not threatened by her and all seemed copacetic. Jessie moved on her own accord from the equipment shed to the barn. Much better digs, food and company.
Cream, served in a pretty glass bowl on the front deck, became our morning treat and a ritual. In my mind, to tame; in Jessie’s, an answer to her call, her mewing. I wonder if that is what she wanted all along. Perhaps a memory prior to her feral days. Was she an inside kitty who got cream each morning? Did she get forgotten when someone moved? Did the survival or the betrayal make her skiddish? Jessie’s mew, my trial and error replies finally gained kitty trust, and a good long pet & scratch behind the black velvet ears and the white tuxedo chest. Jessie’s sweet mew and my response turned ritual, “two tablespoons, eight seconds please” of cream heated ever so slightly in the microwave won the day…and a new mouser, meditation partner and Foxhaven Farm friend. It is an honor to be adopted by such a special cat. Love you sweet Jessie.
