Over the past few years I've been having some pretty wild dreams......some are so clear and detailed it's like watching a movie on the inside of my eyelids. When I wake in the morning I can remember just about everything about some of the dreams. The other day I had an amazing "story dream". When I woke in the morning I rolled over and told Dave the entire, complicated story. And it kept running through my mind...so I decided to write it down and share. At the risk of making my cat-loving friends really mad I remind anyone who reads this that it was a dream.
And so....here it is.....with very minimal changes just to make it readable. All of the details are just the way they played out as I slept and watched this girl:
It was the kind of cold that makes your bones ache. The kind of cold that settles in and makes you ache all over.....and the wind didn't help.
She turned up the collar of her jeans jacket and pulled her baseball cap down as far as she could. She was tired. At 26 she was young, and physically active....but walking 18 hours straight was not a normal activity for her. Now her feet protested with every step, but she couldn't find a safe place to stop.....not yet.
She looked at the red scratch on her hand. It didn't seem to be getting any worse, but it did look slightly infected so she would have to address that as soon as she could.
Her nightmare began when she got home from work the night before to find Josh in a pool of blood, dead on the kitchen floor. Their cat, Samantha, was sitting on his back. Screaming she dropped her purse and ran toward him and that's when Samantha, hackles raised, jumped up hissing. Their beloved cat scratched her, hard enough to draw blood. Stunned she stopped.....and as Samantha advanced, she turned and ran back out the kitchen door.
It was here.....at their house.....and she had to get away. They'd felt secure in their small southwestern Wisconsin town. The terrifying headlines from cities all around the world seemed so distant. They were sure Summerville was protected by all the undeveloped farm acreage surrounding it in every direction.
While there was still news coverage, reporters claimed that domestic cats were suddenly and savagely turning against their owners and feral cats seemed to actually be hunting humans. The talking heads, before all the networks went silent, began to call it Feline Hemmoragic Fever. FHF was sweeping the globe in a way that made the bird flu and Ebola virus of the 20th century seem small by comparison. And this was moving so fast that scientists were unable to develop a treatment or possible cure. Everyone was susceptible...young and old, rich or poor.
It was almost as if, within a matter of hours, every house cat in the world experienced a sudden gene mutation that carried a deadly flaw. A switch flipped, and cats shared a fatal virus with their owners. FHF moved so quickly and so savagely no one could keep up with it. Suggestions that owners quickly kill their beloved pets fell on deaf ears. The big cities fell first. Newspapers, television and internet coverage just stopped. People shared rumors via social media....but then even those streams dried up as well. There seemed to be no one left to share any information.
She fled the house at dusk. Passing their few neighbors she saw no signs of life, no lights on inside, no activity. She didn't turn up a familiar driveway, she just ran until she couldn't run any more and then she walked all night. Her night vision seemed particularly acute so she just kept going.....away from Summerville, away from Josh's body.
It was now late-afternoon and she was exhausted, very hungry and so alone. She had no idea about her exact location but did see a few houses on the horizon. With the wind at her back she slowly approached the first house.....moving between rows of tall corn stalks to get closer. At the edge of the corn field she stood quietly....waiting and watching. Shivering, time moved slowly.....she saw no people, just one lighted window. Suddenly a door opened and three large dogs emerged. They ran around the yard for a few minutes until a whistle called them back.
And so....here it is.....with very minimal changes just to make it readable. All of the details are just the way they played out as I slept and watched this girl:
It was the kind of cold that makes your bones ache. The kind of cold that settles in and makes you ache all over.....and the wind didn't help.
She turned up the collar of her jeans jacket and pulled her baseball cap down as far as she could. She was tired. At 26 she was young, and physically active....but walking 18 hours straight was not a normal activity for her. Now her feet protested with every step, but she couldn't find a safe place to stop.....not yet.
She looked at the red scratch on her hand. It didn't seem to be getting any worse, but it did look slightly infected so she would have to address that as soon as she could.
Her nightmare began when she got home from work the night before to find Josh in a pool of blood, dead on the kitchen floor. Their cat, Samantha, was sitting on his back. Screaming she dropped her purse and ran toward him and that's when Samantha, hackles raised, jumped up hissing. Their beloved cat scratched her, hard enough to draw blood. Stunned she stopped.....and as Samantha advanced, she turned and ran back out the kitchen door.
It was here.....at their house.....and she had to get away. They'd felt secure in their small southwestern Wisconsin town. The terrifying headlines from cities all around the world seemed so distant. They were sure Summerville was protected by all the undeveloped farm acreage surrounding it in every direction.
While there was still news coverage, reporters claimed that domestic cats were suddenly and savagely turning against their owners and feral cats seemed to actually be hunting humans. The talking heads, before all the networks went silent, began to call it Feline Hemmoragic Fever. FHF was sweeping the globe in a way that made the bird flu and Ebola virus of the 20th century seem small by comparison. And this was moving so fast that scientists were unable to develop a treatment or possible cure. Everyone was susceptible...young and old, rich or poor.
It was almost as if, within a matter of hours, every house cat in the world experienced a sudden gene mutation that carried a deadly flaw. A switch flipped, and cats shared a fatal virus with their owners. FHF moved so quickly and so savagely no one could keep up with it. Suggestions that owners quickly kill their beloved pets fell on deaf ears. The big cities fell first. Newspapers, television and internet coverage just stopped. People shared rumors via social media....but then even those streams dried up as well. There seemed to be no one left to share any information.
She fled the house at dusk. Passing their few neighbors she saw no signs of life, no lights on inside, no activity. She didn't turn up a familiar driveway, she just ran until she couldn't run any more and then she walked all night. Her night vision seemed particularly acute so she just kept going.....away from Summerville, away from Josh's body.
It was now late-afternoon and she was exhausted, very hungry and so alone. She had no idea about her exact location but did see a few houses on the horizon. With the wind at her back she slowly approached the first house.....moving between rows of tall corn stalks to get closer. At the edge of the corn field she stood quietly....waiting and watching. Shivering, time moved slowly.....she saw no people, just one lighted window. Suddenly a door opened and three large dogs emerged. They ran around the yard for a few minutes until a whistle called them back.
She stood and thought about it. The presence of dogs gave her hope......perhaps that meant there were no cats nearby. Gathering her courage, she moved toward the house and quietly up onto the porch. And then she knocked on the door. Loud barking greeted her knock and the door slowly opened. The dogs crowded forward, hackles raised but tails wagging. Just behind them stood an elderly man holding a gun. As the door opened wider she could see two younger men sitting at a kitchen table.
"Who are you and what do you want?" The first question was followed by a second...."Do you have a cat with you?" Raising her hands she explained her situation. Promising she meant no harm she begged for a drink of water and maybe something to eat. The older man turned to the others and, wordlessly, they seemed to reach an agreement. She was allowed inside.
Thankfully she fell onto a kitchen chair and accepted a large glass of water. Her thirst quenched, they gave her a plate of their evening meal. Dogs at her feet, she shared more details as she finished the meal. They all talked and shared what little information they had......new facts were few.
As the sun began to set she tearfully explained she had been awake and moving for almost 24 hours and was desperately tired. Again, wordlessly, the three men seemed to agree that she could stay for the night. The only source of heat was the wood stove in the kitchen.....and it was obvious that all the men were camped around it in sleeping bags or on make-shift mattresses. They found a few extra blankets and made her a semi-comfortable pad on the floor, close to the stove. Thankfully she took off her jacket and collapsed on top of it. Everyone seemed ready to turn off the light and settle in for the night.
She curled up, warm and safe for now. Around her she heard the men and dogs settling under blankets.....moving and shifting to get comfortable. She closed her eyes, willing herself to relax. Within minutes the small room filled with the quiet sounds of sleep. She felt the tension leave her body for the first time in days.
Drifting off she licked her hand where the cat's scratch still festered. With a slight smile playing across her lips......she began to purr.
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