Henry Ted's Mama

When H.T. was a kitten, he climbed a tree but didn't know how to get down. Arrow, his mother came into the house, mewly plaintively. When I ignored her, she "herded" me to the door. Everytime I took a step to the right, away from the door, or a step to the left, away from outside, she guided me with her body back to the door.

I finally got what she wanted me to do. I stepped out the front door and sure enough, there was a tiny T.H. in a tall tree mirroring his mother's meows.

So I climbed the tree, and Arrow kept abreast of me with her own ascend–on a opposite tree limb–the whole time I was climbing until I rescued him.

Last night, Arrow would not stop mewing. When I walked around the apartment, she "herded" me to the door. In her mind, that was the last time she saw Henry Ted...heading out the door. She wanted me to go get him.

I was heart-broken. My caresses refused to placate her. I knew Henry Ted was her playmate at night, chasing each other around, and she missed him.

Finally, I opened the balcony door pretending that was what she wanted the whole time. She took up the pretense (or distraction), went outside to "play," and was okay the rest of the night.

My best friend, a veterinarian professor, told me animals are in the here and now. Arrow, missing H.T. one minute, enchanted by late night smells another minute.

More Lessons Learned

Have careful thoughts; relax, relax, rest; We souls are all actors in a role. Take time to feel the great soul underneath the "acting."