I've said before, I really don't dream much anymore. The stress of everyday life, I guess, just being damned tired by the end of every day. Don't know why. Maybe I do dream, like the doctors say, but I just don't remember them upon awakening. Maybe I don't get deep enough in to sleep, to have dreams.
That being said, every once in a while, I have this one. It is both terrifying, yet a huge comfort to me...
I am being chased. All around me is nothing other than black. No ground, no horizon or sky. I imaging this is what it would be like if I were blind. There's just nothing. WHICH of course makes it damned difficult to run and escape from whatever the hell is chasing my sorry ass...
No clue where or when I am. Just overwhelming fear of whatever is behind me. Even though I can't see it, I know it's gaining fast. Finally, I turn to face it. Whatever it is I KNOW is almost upon me, and I'm winded. Never was a runner. Too damned big. If I couldn't stand and fight whatever it was, and kick its ass in 15 seconds or less, I was a deadman anyway. I've always known that.
Okay. Wolves. I'm being hunted by a pack of very large wolves. These guys look rather well-fed. Not starved at all. Not good. not for me anyway. They appear out of the blackness. Looks kind of like ink receding around their bodies as the come into full view. BIG. Big. Like 150lbers. Timber Wolf? Grey Wolf? Dunno. Big. They look hungry.
They are closing in, cautiously but steadily. Every one of them is looking me directly in the eyes. That in itself makes it even more unnerving. They know I've accessed the situation and know the inevitable outcome. I'm dinner.
Then, they stop. They raise their heads and sniff the air, watching the inky blackness behind me. I know something ELSE is coming. I don't dare turn around. Although I'm not sure why it matters.They can grab me just as easily from the front. I hear the growling. It's not coming from the wolves. And it's far deeper...
Finally, I can't stand it anymore. I spin around to see this threat, which makes wolves nervous. And I fall back, on my ass.
Candy. Jo Jo. Ginger. Rosie. Jack.
My animal friends. My pets. They've come to help me. And they are NOT what they were in life. Each of them appears to be roughly the size of a full grown cow. Weighing in at 1500-2000lbs. They are not really looking at me, but at the wolves. The dogs advance, while the two cats move in close and guard me.
Candy, was my first dog, that I can remember as a child. She had been abused. When we got her, she was maybe a year or so old. Mom and Pop couldn't get near her. Even to feed her. She was terrified of adults. Men especially. My sister and I fed her for the first several weeks of her life in our house. She was a wonderful dog. Her life with us stretched 19 years. She grew blind in one eye, but still faithfully followed my father out in the garden as he did his work, weeding and watering. She would lay down at the head of a row, and move up, when he was halfway done, and then again when he would move on to the next. After almost 20 years, her hind end gave out and she could no longer stand. She still had an appetite though. Right to the very end. We had to have her put to sleep. I felt guilty. Still do to this day, because I was not there. Can't deal with death. Pop had to bury her, on a cold, snowy morning. I wasn't there to help him dig her grave. Still, she had come to save me. I don't feel that I deserved it.
After Candy, it was quite a while before we had another dog. I came home from work one day, and Pop had this ugly little mutt sitting happily in his lap. Her name was Ginger. She was a pure blood Boston Bull Terrier. Mom didn't want another animal, but, Pop insisted. So, he took care of her. She was a wonderful little dog. Rode everywhere with him, in the car. Was a good watchdog. Thought she was the size of a Great Dane, even though she barely weighed 18 pounds. She outlived my father, by 3 years. Those last few years were hard on her. First Pop vanished, and then Mom. She was home alone a lot, cause I had to work. I paid a neighbor lady to come over and let her out and sit with her for a bit every day. But she was always beside herself with joy when I would get home from work. Little Ginger had a brain tumor that I didn't know about, til it was far too late. She was 13. The vet said she would never survive the surgery, even IF the tumor turned out to be operable. One night she had a seizure in my arms. She died screaming. It was the most awful thing I have ever witnessed in my life. There was not a damned thing I could do except hold her and cry. I lay beside her on the floor that night she died, her body in her little dog bed, my hand resting upon her still form, feeling the coldness creep in.
I had no more pets after Ginger. Until Jack. Fuzzy-Boy was a pure Aussie Shepard. A Blue Merle. Down to having one blue eye and one brown. He was a funny creature. Not really much of a barker. But he would Harumph, quite often when he wanted something. Was funny as hell to hear. Like he was annoyed you weren't paying attention, or didn't understand what he was saying. Jack was Shanna's baby. When she came into my life, he naturally came right along too. I loved him as much as she did. Jack had a tattoo on his inner ear, indicating he had been neutered. Seemed a funny thing to do. But we later learned why; Fuzzy Boy had a genetic, degenerative spinal problem. His vertebrae were fusing and he was slowly and painfully losing the use of his rear legs. By Christmas of 2010, he could barely move. We had to have him put to sleep. I didn't want to do it. I would have bankrupted myself, if someone could have offered an option to save him. He passed from this life 12/21/10. I have missed him sorely, even though he was not in my life as long as some of my pet friends. We had good times together and some tough ones. But he was always a loving and faithful family member. I miss him to this day.
I was not really a cat person. *shrugs* I don't dislike them. dogs just appeal to me more. Always have. We rescued a kitten, when I was little. A mother cat, had her litter in the grass catcher of my Pop's riding lawn mower. He found them and moved them into a box. Well, momma cat didn't like that, and moved her children, leaving behind the smallest and weakest. After a day of listening to the tiny kitten wailing for its momma, Pop couldn't take it any more and brought the animal in. Mom was NOT happy. He called the vet and asked how to raise a kitten whose eyes weren't even open yet. We fed it with a tiny baby bottle, every few hours. Amazingly enough, it survived. Sis named the female kitten Jo Jo. Which I kinda found dumb. So I called it Dummy. I don't think the poor creature ever really knew its name. lol. It remained mostly feral. It didn't like being petted, except by my Mother, who was the one person who didn't want it in the first place. Jo Jo/Dummy was grey and white. And very cranky. She attacked feet, hands, whatever was nearby and moving. Even though we fed her. I guess it was just her way. She was with us a number of years, til she got cancer. My sister had to have her put to sleep. I missed that goofy cat, even though we never really got along all that well.
Pop never could stand to see an animal suffer. He was not a cat person, by any stretch. But no animal would suffer or go hungry on the Hall property. One day, while puttering around outside, he spied a pair of eyes peering out at him from beneath the tractor in the garage. On closer inspection, he could see it was a small, dark colored cat, who hastily withdrew farther into the darkness, to avoid Pop. He made his way back to the house and cooked up a piece of minute steak, figuring the cat was cold and hungry. He put it on a paper plate and went back out to the garage. His intent was to place the meat where the cat could see it, and back away so it would come out to eat. He never made it that far. He put the plate down, beneath the tractor and started to back away. Rosie came shooting out of the garage and wound herself around his ankles, meowing loudly and rubbing herself against him. After doing this thoroughly, she turned and ate the food he had placed for her. That was that. Pop had a cat. She was a dark calico. Multi colored. He wanted to bring her in. Mom said NO WAY. lol. So, she was an outdoor cat. Pop would take food out to feed her, and he would sit in an old metal lawn chair and talk to her while she ate. When she would finish, Rosie would climb up and sit in his lap and purr endlessly. And drool. Pop was concerned and though she might be ill. He'd never heard of a cat drooling. It was Sis who told him that was a sign that Rosie was ecstatically happy. He wasn't sure how Ginger would react to a cat, so, he started walking her out front, and going out back then, by himself. When he would, Rosie would come out of the garage, and follow him around in the garden, just like any faithful dog. She knew where her bread was buttered. lol. One day, Pop forgot and took Ginger out the back door. Rosie came shooting out of the garage as usual and ran right up to Pop... and Ginger. The little Boston Bull barked furiously at the cat, straining on her leash as if she was looking to eat the cat alive. Pop was just about to drag her inside, when Rosie walked up to her, laid down and rolled onto her back, placing one paw gently on each side of Ginger's face. Well, the poor dog swallowed her own bark. She didn't know how to deal with that. She kind of turned her head away in disgust, and shut up. After that, the two were fast friends. When Pop took Ginger out, Rosie can right along and the two would play together. It was funny as hell to watch, really. After Pop passed, I too, wanted to bring Rosie in. Mom still wouldn't have it. So, I elected to find her a home, where she could be an indoor kitty. She obviously had been at some point. My sister DID find her a wonderful home. But, her time outside, had poisoned her. Not 2 years after Pop passed, Rosie followed him into the dark. I was very, very saddened when Sis called to tell me the news.
I did not, do not, and never will understand, why god would give such sweet, wonderful creatures so short a time upon the face of this world, and yet give humans, who have a natural propensity and inclination towards evil, so many years.
The wolves were definitely spooked by the sudden appearance of my cadre of defenders. The three dogs probably massed more than 20x what the pack of five did. Then, the wolves attacked.
It was over in seconds. The dogs were faster and far more massive. They simply threw the wolves backwards into the inky blackness. The leader of the pack made an end run around the dogs and found itself carelessly swatted away by a massive cat paw. I could feel them give up, and turn away into the darkness. They knew after one short encounter, that they were hopelessly outclassed.
I stood, and wrapped my arms around the nearest cats neck, Dummy/Jo Jo, and hugged her tightly. She made no move to pull away. When I let go of her, she looked at me and yawned. Her maw was so large, it seemed as if the entire upper portion of my body would have fit in there in one bite. Then, I turned and hugged Rosie. She purred loudly (it sounded kind of like an old Dodge pickup truck with a 440CID and a set of sidepipes at idle) and nuzzled me. When I let go of her, Candy was there and I started to cry. I held her tightly and told her how sorry I was, at not having been there for her and how I missed her. She licked me repeated (getting my WHOLE face in one swipe, several times...) and whined happily. I turned to Ginger and did the same, saying how I missed her and thanking her for coming for me. And finally, Jack, who licked me also and grumbled low, like a mumbling old man.
Then, they turned to leave. I stood there, watching. They did not fade into the inky blackness. Instead, the dark gave way around them and they seemed to be bathed in a soft but steady glow from within. The nothingness which surrounded me retreated from them. My friends stopped and looked back at me. I took it to mean, Well??? Are you coming or NOT?? I hurriedly joined their group, laying an arm on the backs of Jack and Ginger. As we walked forward, the blackness retreated. I saw blue and green start to appear; sky and grass. And off, in the distance, a beautiful, beautiful bridge...
