'Time', he said, holding up the braid to me. He indicated one end, then the other, 'Maybe one thousand year.' He touched the individual stalks of grass tenderly. 'Souls, Spirits. You see? You, your father, your mother, sister, wife, children, you see? Your spirit is together with their spirits like this, tight against each other. That is why you were born into this [l]ife together. He pulled one strand out and tossed it up into the sunlight. 'Maybe one of these people, or two, not so close after this [l]ife. But people you really love, spirits that are close to your spirit, you see? They tie around tight to you, [l]ife after [l]ife."
-Breakfast with Buddha by Roland Merullo
I read this book several years ago, but this was a part from the book that entered into my mind upon getting to know Vincent. Vincent is a cat and I am quite sure that he has become one of the strands of grass in my braid of time.
Vincent came to the farm slightly over a year ago. A feral cat, wild and frightened of anything and everything human. Only enticed closer by the lure of food that is left out nightly for the resident clowder of cats. He would wait until we had put the food down and then would warily creep into the mob of cats and grab a few furtive bites before any move on our part would send him flying. Skinny, crumpled ears, and starving, night after night he would get just ever so slightly braver until finally, after many months of very slow and patient work by my kids, he let one of them touch him. Always only afraid, never mean. Cats have two defense mechanisms that they work from when they are in over their heads - they become incredibly ferocious, or they do everything in their power to flee - Vincent was always the second.
At our farm, when a new cat arrives, it is given a certain amount of "breaking in" period before the local vet - that's me- steps in and insists on said cat being a more socially acceptable pet, by which I mean neutered/spayed and vaccinated. Vincent was having none of me anywhere near him even with food available, and carrying a net looked especially worrisome to him. I left the net in the care of my son and within a few days of trial and escape, Vincent came to the door of the house, trapped in the net under much duress just as I was in the process of making pizza on a Sunday night. Time and tide may wait for no man, but neither does a cat in a net. In short order Vincent was anesthetized via an injection in the muscle, tested for several nasty cat viruses by doing a simple blood test, vaccinated and neutered. All while laying on my front porch surrounded by four (and sometimes five) curious kids - my son opted out of watching the neutering process. Anesthetic reversed and by the time the pizza was done, he was completely recovered and had staggered off in the direction of the barn.
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