A Cat's Eye View of Life and Love by Sterling Read online

  of Life and Love

  by

  with Gentle Self-Help for All Ages

  as told to Marta Felber

  LifeWords Publishing

  Winston-Salem, North Carolina

  www.LifeWords.com

  Copyright 2009 by Marta Felber

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission in writing from the publisher except in the case of brief

  quotations used in articles and reviews.

  Library of Congress Control Number 2008905217

  ISBN 978-0-9799214-1-4

  Printed in the United States of America

  Design: Tammy Ball

  Editors: Anna Kirwan, Al Perry

  Creative Coach: Roberta Lockwood

  Photos: Marta Felber

  LifeWords Publishing

  419 Salem Vista Court

  Winston-Salem, North Carolina 27101

  Before We Begin...

  Look into my eyes. Yes, I mean literally. Put a finger here to hold your place and go back to the cover. Stare into my eyes. Imagine what I may be thinking, and then return.

  The idea for this book was born when M and I gazed into each other’s eyes and began to read what we saw there. I can’t type, of course, but M can. She began to record what she saw, adding some details she probably guessed, and here we are, sixty stories later.

  Why do I call her M? She says it is because this book contains my stories, not hers.

  I agree.

  How many cats are there in the world? More than you or I can count. Each cat is different from every other cat. That makes each of us unique, just as you are unique. But we do have some of the same thoughts, feelings, and experiences. In my stories I share mine with you. Purr-haps you will choose to share with others what they bring to mind.

  The background photos in the book are from my gallery, showing me in many poses. The photos are in shadow form, making it easier for you to substitute a cat you know, or imagine. Another cat will appear later in the book. You may be curious, but please don’t look ahead.

  Spend some time with the “Mewsings” at the end of each story. You will find it helpful to discuss them first with yourself, and then with others. Remember a line or two as you go about your day. Try composing mewsings to go with your own life experiences.

  I will meet you inside. Welcome to my world...

  P.S. You can meet me on a computer, too. www.SterlingTheCat.com

  FEARING THE UNKNOWN

  I wait and wait for someone to want me. I have claimed the top shelf in the shelter as mine. I curl up and watch all the activity below, day after day after day. Cats and kittens are all over the place. Every day people come and pick out a favorite. The next day they return and take their favorite home with them. The shelter does not feel like home. Why am I never chosen? There must be something dreadfully wrong with me. Is that why my family left me on the doorstep downtown?

  One day I hear someone say, “I’m M, and I am looking for a special cat.” I know that leaves me out. I do feel sorry for her, however. The cats, and especially the kittens, pounce all over her and yowl. She keeps peeling them off. Then she looks up, straight into my eyes. She comes closer, gently reaches up her hand, and in a soft voice she says, “You are so beautiful. You are the one I choose.” I sniff her fingers and, in that moment, I choose her.

  I want to go right now with this soft-spoken woman. But she leaves me behind. Will she return?

  She is there, bright and early, the next morning. The helper puts me in a box. “I had no idea Sterling was so heavy!” M says as she tries to carry me to the car. If I’m too heavy, will she keep me? I don’t like the box, even though it has openings. It feels like a cage, and I want out. It isn’t even big enough for me to turn around.

  What is going to happen to me? I don’t really know this person, M. Where are we going? Will I like my new home? Will I get fed? What if I don’t like the food? What if there are no cats and kittens for me to watch? Will there be a place I can call my own? And I have to go to the litter box, soon!

  I feel the car moving and I begin to yell, and I do mean yell! M talks non-stop in a soothing voice. I scream so loudly I only hear her when I stop to catch my breath. M turns on music. I yell even louder, so she turns off the music. It is then I see a finger poking through a hole in the box. The finger is wiggling. I sniff at it and stop howling. Just like that.

  Mewsings

  We can feel lonely with lots of others around.

  We may feel “not okay.”

  It is easy to give up hope.

  We need to hear a voice that says, “I choose you.”

  And the touch of a finger—or a paw—means so much.

  SLEEPING IT OFF

  This place is big! I felt cramped in the shelter, but here I feel lost. There are too many closed doors. What is behind the doors? Here I have a small room where my litter box is placed. I have investigated every inch of this room. This whole place smells different. My food bowl is in the kitchen. That room is too big. I don’t eat unless M is in the kitchen with me. In fact, I don’t eat very much at all. Even though I didn’t like the shelter food that much, I was used to it. This food is different. Everything is different.

  It is so quiet, I can hear myself breathe. I’m afraid to make any noise. I don’t hear cats, or people, or anything. Where is M? I hear a noise. It sounds like a car! I jump. It is coming from the tall white box in the kitchen. I saw M open it a few minutes ago and take something out to drink before she left the room. Will the box chase me? I wait. The noise stops. I am okay, and I relax a little. What will happen next?

  I hear something ring, and M’s voice, far away. Who else is in this place? Who is she talking to? Why haven’t I seen them? When will they appear? I liked M as soon as I saw her, but I’m not sure about the other person, the one she is talking to.

  Where is M? I search and search until I find her in a room I have not explored. She is sitting at a desk looking at a lighted picture with words that change, and moving her fingers around in front of her. I crawl under her chair and get close to the wall. I can only see her feet. She talks to me, on and on. I don’t understand what she is saying. I am so tired, so tired. Her voice is soothing, so soothing. I must be going to sleep.

  Sometime later, I hear the same ringing noise, closer this time. M is talking to someone, someone who does not answer. “I brought Sterling home today. He has been sleeping under my computer desk for over four hours! I wonder if he is okay. He didn’t want to eat. He would not let me touch him, and actually ran when I tried. Do you suppose the yowling cats at the shelter kept him awake at night and he is catching up on his sleep now? I guess he will come out when he is ready. I’d like to hold him. I hope he will let me.”

  I don’t want to be held. I want to be left alone. I didn’t like where I was before, but at least I knew what to expect, day after day. Everything here is entirely different. It’s too much for me to handle. I’m going back to sleep, for a long, long time. When I wake up, I will take whatever happens, slowly, and step by step.

  Mewsings

  New experiences can be overwhelming.

  We search in vain for something that is the same.

  We listen for familiar sounds and there are none.

  One escape is sleep,

  with a promise to deal with life, when we wake up.

  FACING MY ANGER

  There was a time when I had claws, both in the back and in front. I loved using them. I would dig, sharpen my talons, and even climb trees. I was always ready to defend myself. I was not afraid of anything or anybody. Someone, sometime
in my past, cut them off! I have mostly blocked out that experience. I do remember it was very painful, and the pain lasted a long time. Why would anyone do that? I get angry whenever I think about it, so angry that I go to my special chair and paw and paw at the edges. But that is not like having claws, and I get angry again, even angrier! Sometimes I take my anger out on M, because I don’t know what else to do. She did not cut off my claws, but she is one of the kind who did.

  I jump on the kitchen counter when she is in the next room. She finds me there, picks me up, and puts me down. In a firm, but kind voice, she tells me it is a “no-no.” What really gets to M, however, is when I mark some spots on the dining-room rug. She runs for the paper towels, soaks up the warm liquid that I put there, sprays on some special stuff from a bottle, and leaves it for a while. Then I see her spray some other stuff around. She explains that I’m supposed to respond to the smell and it will make me not want to mark there again. I wonder?

  Days go by when I get busy and forget I have no claws. Then I see a squirrel coming toward the window. I jump, as I used to do, to catch him. No! I am inside, and I have no claws! I race around the house, as fast as I can go. I am so angry that when I have to use the litter box, I stop wherever I am and do what I have to do.

  Here comes M with the same old routine. This time, when she is finished, she catches me, brings me to the spot, holds me, and gives me her hopeful message. “Ling, we are not certain why you are doing this, but both the vet and I believe you will eventually stop. The pill he prescribed for you is supposed to help.”

  When I calm down, I think about my behavior. My claws can’t be put back. Maybe my real handicap I must deal with is the anger brought on by not having claws. Where is that big fuzzy mouse? I will tear it to pieces with my teeth!

  Mewsings

  There are things in my life that I allow to make me angry.

  Is there something positive that can come from my anger?

  If not, there is no reason to continue lashing out.

  I may be hurting others I care about.

  I may be hurting myself.

  I am in charge of my emotions.

  I can let the anger go, in okay ways.

  EXPLORING THE OFFICE

  Today is “Explore the Office Day.” It is also March 1st. How do I know? I just heard M say, “Sterling, I can’t believe it is March 1st already! Where did February go?” I don’t have a clue what she is talking about. I don’t know where February went, and I really don’t care. Right now, I am on top of the copy machine. It is early morning, too cold to go out on the porch, even if it is glassed in, and I am bored.

  Now I am behind the desk, rattling all the tangled-up wires. I bet this makes M nervous, wondering what I am doing under here, so I won’t stay long. In fact, I won’t stay long anywhere. I’m just casing this joint, making sure there is no area I have not explored.

  M turns around because she hears a thump. “How in the world did you get up there?” Up there is on top of the four-drawer file, where I am investigating a silly plant that was never real. I know how I got here, but I am not telling her.

  I won’t jump up on M’s lap when she is moving her fingers across those little black keys with letters and numbers and squiggly things on them, and staring at that lighted picture in front of her. I always get picked up and put down if I do that. So I jump up on the short file beside her and investigate the black thing she calls a phone. She talks into it and I don’t see anyone around. Who is she talking to? I climb up on the shelves above her to the one small space that has nothing on it. What a mess! I feel closed in. Where do I go next?

  I love to investigate piles of papers, and there are stacks all over the place. Here is a big pile on the chair. I hit it just right, and papers fly in all directions. What fun!

  “Sterling, that’s enough. You’re for the birds; go watch them.” I know she has had it. Usually, I don’t do what she tells me to do. I see her picking up papers and muttering every time she stoops. Okay, I will go check out the birds. But I will be back and find new things to see and do in the office.

  Mewsings

  Each day I look for something I’ve never seen before.

  Also, I do something I’ve never done before.

  Sometimes I do the same thing, but in a different way.

  Not only the office,

  but the whole world, is waiting for me to explore.

  I must be careful, though, that my exploration

  does not affect others in negative ways.

  BEING INDEPENDENT

  I am totally independent and proud that I am. I control everything in my life. I decide what I will do, and when I will do it. That feels good. Wait! I must take that back. There is one, and only one, command that I follow without question. It is “Eat!” When M says, “Eat,” I dash for the kitchen and stand at attention beside my private placemat on the floor. I am not ashamed of this one exception when I follow M’s direction, since eating is perhaps the most important activity in my life.

  M tries to tell me what to do. “Why don’t you go out on the porch? The birds are having breakfast and they have invited all their friends. I have never seen so many birds.”

  That does sound interesting. I like to hide under a plant on the porch, ready to pounce on the birds. I point my nose, chomp my teeth, and hiss under my breath. I feel powerful, even without my claws. However, I will go out on the porch when I choose to go out on the porch, and not a moment earlier.

  There are times when my independence especially exasperates M. “Ling, see this new educational toy? It says ‘For smart cats.’ It cost a lot of money. Look, you reach into the holes, from the top and the sides, and fish out a ball.”

  I would never let M know I think it might be fun. I will come back and investigate at my leisure, when she is not around.

  Going to bed at night is another prime example of my control.

  “Come on, Ling, time to go to bed.”

  Doors are checked, lights are turned off, and I am left in the dark. I may play with my favorite toy for a while. There does not have to be much light for me to play. I have to kill time somehow, and then I slowly and casually saunter into the bedroom. I even take my time getting up on our bed. M is asleep, and I have missed what I would have heard her say, if I had come to bed when she first called.

  “Good night, Ling. Sleep tight, Ling. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  I am left in the dark. I may play with my favorite toy for a while. There does not have to be much light for me to play. I have to kill time somehow, and then I slowly and casually saunter into the bedroom. I even take my time getting up on our bed. M is asleep, and I have missed what I would have heard her say, if I had come to bed when she first called.

  “Good night, Ling. Sleep tight, Ling. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Mewsings

  Being independent and in control feels good.

  Being independent means we can take care of ourselves.

  However, others in our lives may feel left out

  if we don’t allow them to do some things for us.

  We can experiment with letting others have control at times.

  It may be okay, and even feel good.

  LEARNING TO STRETCH

  You may be thinking, “What can a cat teach me about stretching?” If this is true, you have never watched a cat stretch and then relax. Is there any other animal more relaxed than a cat, when a cat chooses to be relaxed?

  Never, ever, get out of bed without stretching first. Your day will be ruined, by stiffness and inability to move fast. First thing, I uncurl and stretch each of my four legs, starting with the front ones. Then I put them all together for a nice total stretch. I hold, and it feels so good.

  Out of the corner of my eye I see M doing her funny stretches. She pulls up one leg, always the one on my side first. She brings it all the way to her chest and holds it there. I don’t know for how long; maybe she is counting in her head. Then she does the other leg, sa
me thing. Next, she raises her arms over her head and pushes herself down from the headboard, until her arms and legs are straight. Then she really pushes. Wow, is she long! Sometimes she says “Oh! That feels wonderful.” I wonder how it could. Next she holds me, and whispers something in my ear, before we face the day, all pepped up and ready to go.

  It is easy to forget the stretches we need during the day. We get too busy, and that is the problem, especially for M. She sits too long at the computer. I want to poke her with my paw to remind her to stretch. Sometimes she gets the mental message. If her neck is hurting, she moves her head from one side to the other, very slowly. I am waiting for her to twist her head all the way off, but it never happens. Later she may get up, go to the wall, with arms bent, palms flat against the wall. Her nose is almost touching the wall. She starts walking backwards, while she straightens her arms, and holds this position. Picture that, and you will know why I am laughing inside. She does this a couple of times, then shakes herself, all over, and gets back to work.

  I show her my exercise, but she does not pay attention. I will describe it to you. I am standing up, on all fours. First, I reach out my front right paw, placing it as far ahead on the floor as I possibly can. Then out goes the other paw and leg. My head is near the floor, and my bottom in the air. Wonderful! I bring my body to the starting position and work my back legs. Up goes my head, and I reach one leg straight back, stretch, and hold it, then bring it down. The other leg does the same thing. Try it!

  There goes the class period bell! We have only begun this lesson. Looks like you will have to finish the stretching class on your own.