A Lost Cat & Planting Trees Dreams

The first dream found me in a hotel. My wife was with me in one of those sprawling single-story hotels, where we had a suite. We were watching a friend’s cat for him while he was away. Gray and white, the cat’s name was Naruba. It was a friendly and relaxed animal. He wanted out of the room. I let him out. He disappeared from sight.

Now I was worried; I had to find him. I searched and searched but it was fruitless. By the time my friend returned, I’d given up. But, just as I was about to confess that his cat was gone, the cat reappeared. My friend saw him first. While I was relieved the cat was there, I didn’t think it was the same cat. This one seemed much younger than his cat. My buddy was happy, though, so I let it go.

In the next dream, I was with a few other friends. We were up in the hills off the side of a narrow road. I wasn’t certain what was going on. One friend was looking for something. After a bit of conversation, I realized that he was looking for land. I thought he wanted to buy some land.

We found a place. I recommended it to him. He agreed that it was a good place. Then, though, he brought out a box of plants and planted a tree. He explained that he’d been planting trees for years, wherever he could. I was impressed, and thought, I should do that, too. It was so clever of him.

That’s where it ended.

The Note

A timid knock interrupted our early Sunday afternoon, a noise so soft, I was confused about its source and intentions.

“Is that you making that noise?” I called out from the office.

“Someone is knocking on the front door,” my wife called back from the living room.

The front door is between the rooms. I went to see what was going on. I expected to find a child.

It was a woman. “My cat got out,” she said. She then explained where she lived, and how her cat, Bear, got out. “He’s all black. I was walking along the fence, peeking between the slats, on your backyard.” She seemed embarrassed. “I saw a black cat, along with an orange cat in your backyard. I thought it might be him.”

“I have a black cat,” I said. “So it’s probably him. I’ll check.” Yes, my black cat and my orange cat were in the backyard. I told her. “Sorry.”

She answered with comments about worry. “He means everything to me.” It’d been an hour. Bear never went out. I completely understood. Once one of our cats went missing for four days. I walked around by the hour, calling her. Strangers later would ask me if she returned, because they saw and heard me hunting for her. (She returned one night, in fine shape. We never knew what had happened.)

I got her details and Bear’s description, and told her I would watch out for Bear, and wished her luck.

After she left, I related the story to my wife.

“She should put her cat’s litter box out,” she said. My wife is a smart person. She reminded me of a story we’d read about that. Cats can smell their own litter box from over a mile away. Putting it outside the front door gives them help finding their way home.

I trotted out after the woman. Finding her up the street, I told her about the litter box trick.

“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll try it.” She continued up the street calling her cat.

The days and nights passed with cold rain and tepid sunshine. I wondered about Bear. I worried about Bear. It might not show on my blog posts, but I like animals, and cats and I share a special affinity. I thought about walking to her apartment to ask, but, while cats and I get along great, I’m not a people person.

Going out to feed the neighbor’s cat on our front porch this morning (we don’t know what’s going on with Pepper, but she practically lives on our front porch, and begs us to be fed), I found a note. It was written in purple ink.

The note said,

Hi – 

Thanks for your helpful tip.

Put litter box out.

Bear arrive home minutes later.

Ruby

I appreciate the note.

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