I really hope that tonight I get some well needed rest, or at least get to dream about a caribbean vacation, complete with warm sunshine and fruity rum drinks. With the way things have been going it's more likely I'll be laying on the beach and then L.B. will go sailing by and pee on the palm tree I'm sitting near. Here's to cat urine free dreaming!
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Have you ever woken up in the morning feeling like your dreams kept you so absurdly busy that you barely got any rest? Do you ever have nights when you wake up multiple times and each time you go back to sleep you're transferred into another whacky dream sequence? Or does this just happen to me? Last night I had a series of four very detailed dream segments that were all variations on the same theme, which was coping with my (now deceased) cat, L.B. and his habit of peeing all over our house. I have no idea what sparked L.B.'s "Jason-esque" return to my life, albeit thru my subconscious, but it was haunting and disturbing. I can clearly see the blatant impudence that was so vividly displayed on L.B.'s grey, furry face as he looked me in the eye, backed up to the sofa and squirted. This isn't the first time I've had a posthumous return of the peeing pussycat. L.B. crossed over the Rainbow Bridge (probably spraying during the entire crossing) a little over 2 years ago. We had him for 14 years and he started off as an adorable, normal kitten and then for inexplicable reasons at about age two, he took to a life of crime and began a pissing spree that became the stuff of legend. He literally pee'd on everything in our house, including Jonathan and I at different points. He seemed to really love me, but as he aged he got more and more crazy. Sometimes I'd be petting him and he'd be purring and preening, then for no reason he would spin around and slash me with his nails. I began to identify his behavior with that of a veteran suffering from post traumatic stress syndrome. L.B. would often cautiously walk out the door, peer left and right then make a run for it in a crazed zig-zag pattern to the bushes at the back of the lawn. If he could've put on some camo and bandana, I feel he would've thought himself complete. My other cats seemed to look at him with pity, but he was so asocial that none of them made friends with him. He was sad, insane and tormented. It took me about five years to make the decision to "help" him start his journey to the afterworld, so after one last pee-fest on a new comforter I made the dreaded call to a friend/veterinarian. I am a diehard cat person, so this wasn't a decision that I took lightly, in fact it pained my very core to do it. However, the fact that we were moving to a new house that was freshly painted and cat pee-free helped reinforce it. The thought of watching (and smelling) L.B. as he darted through a new abode marking it was just too much. It had to be done. So it was. And ever since then that grey S.O.B. makes guest appearances in my dream world, always the same, furtively scurrying about the house, spraying pee in random patterns. Each time I see him I have the same reaction, "Oh NO! It's L.B.! How is this possible? We killed him!!" I know it's self imposed guilt that creates these dream-drama's. I did love L.B., but I'm fairly sure most people would've done him in/abandoned him/given him away long before I made the final choice. Twelve years of hard time with a pissing feline and now I'm doomed to an eternity of his resurrections through my dream land. I just now got his odor off the silk drapes that hang in our living room.