I moved into a new apartment a few months back. I love it; it's large and spacious, and I even get backyard access to a wonderfully landscaped space overgrown in flowers and greeny plants. Contingent upon moving in, however, was the stipulation that I become the foster parent to one of the landlord's cats.
Apparently, Dreamka had been found by my landlord after she had been struck by a car in front of his Greenpoint home. As a result of the accident, she had broken several bones and now suffers from some vision loss. The landlord kindly took the koshka in and his wife and two lovely young daughters cared for her and slowly nursed her back to health. As Dreamka began to heal, however, she became increasingly mistrustful of humans and would lash out at anyone for no apparent reason. One minute, you'd be scratching under her chin and she'd be purring up a storm; next thing you know, you're calling 911 and she's hissing at you like a snake.
Though the family had come to love poor Dreamka, they had also come to the difficult conclusion that she could no longer be allowed in the house. The youngest daughter--about three years old-- was particularly vulnerable to Dreamka's unpredicatable assaults. So they put Dreamka out in the lush backyard. But they continued to put food out for her and try to play with her in the yard. Unfortunately, this being Brooklyn, the neighborhood, particularly this backyard with its overgrowth and shade, is plagued with numerous wild cats. In my yard alone, you can often see three or four enormous males sunning themselves openly on the cobble-stone walkway on any average day. Poor Dreamka was no match for these bullies who dominated her and ate all of her food, and she soon began to lose weight and to show up scratching at my landlord's door with cuts and scratches from her daily brawling.
So when I moved in, he asked me if I didn't mind taking Dreamka in. He explained how much his daughters were fond of the troubled little soul. Since, I had been considering getting a cat at the time, I readily--perhaps too hastily--agreed to take Dreamka on. So we moved in together in May. It took some weeks of getting used to and learning to trust each other, but Dreamka now sleeps in my bed and even greets me impatiently at the front door after work, like any normal cat from a loving home. Each morning, at about 6 a.m., she nuzzles and licks any exposed flesh until I wake up and start petting and scratching her. Her purring alone can wake you up. She gives you about three minutes of serious petting to build up your confidence before she starts hissing, scratching, and biting. On more than one occassion, I have thrown her off of the bed with no regard for her safety--seeing as her claws were so deep in the flesh of my thigh or arm that I was only thinking of saving myself.
While she's generally quite sweet, she can turn on a dime, especially if I try to groom her. Her pelvis was severely damanged in the car accident so she won't let anyone brush her out or clean the long hur on her hind quarters. I've tried and given up. I value my life too much.
Enter the Shaman.
It was Queenie who called me into the equine world, and I will forever be grateful to her for opening my eyes to the special needs of horses, as well as the very special gifts that they give to mankind. Prior to meeting Queenie my healing gifts and therapeutic training were intended for the two legged world. Now I am deeply aware of the huge void of healers in the equine population and I have committed my healing work to horses.
I recently received an e-mail from my landlord's wife, telling me of the success that she has experienced with her other cat, Gustav. Gussy, she explained, was a bit too energetic and feisty. But a few sessions with a friend of hers who is an Animal Shaman--particularly a Horse Shaman--has chilled him out considerably. She was asking for my permission to let the Shaman work with Dreamka. Since my landlady said she was going to pay for it, I agreed. Why not?
So my landlady approached her Horse Shaman who agreed to take on the case, provided, of course, that Dreamka agrees to the pursue therapy. At this point, I have been informed that the Shaman has reached out to Dreamka from Naples, Florida, and if she--the cat from Brooklyn--agrees to pursue therapy, then it will commence post haste.
So We're all waiting on the edges of our seats to see what Dreamka wants to do! I'll keep you posted.