“When the black cat crossed Isabelle’s path, she felt fear rise up in her. Black cats were bad luck…
But the cat had not meant to strike fear in Isabelle, he was merely prowling the streets, looking for some food. When he looked at Isabelle, he felt a deep sense that she was alone, afraid and deeply troubled, but he did not want to follow her, her fear for him was too much.
As Isabelle fell down the stairs, she felt for sure it was that wretched black cat that brought its bad luck to her. She went to bed, troubled by the deep despair she felt.
The next day, the black cat crossed Isabelle’s path again, and she felt like that black cat was an omen out to get her.
The cat knew what he was doing when he came to Isabelle again, but he was determined to help Isabelle come to terms with her feelings of loneliness and fear, for he knew very much what those feelings were, He had never been loved, he was abandoned early in his life and was afraid of a great many people he came into contact with. He had heard how horrible black cats were, but he was sure he was not a bad cat, just a lonely one.
Isabelle spilled her coffee all over her white shirt, and she felt again that it was that black cat who did not want to leave her alone that was bringing her all this bad luck.
Isabelle, on her way home, started crying, she did not want to admit the despair she felt, she had no one to turn to, no friends, all she did was work and go home, she had lost her parents and all she could do was suppress the pain.
The black cat crossed Isabelle’s path again, but something was different, she was crying. He wanted to go up to her, and tell her it would be ok, but he could not, she was still afraid of him.
Isabelle was walking to work one morning, and she did not come across the black cat, where was he, she wondered? All of a sudden she felt sad, sad that the black cat was not there, and then she tripped off the sidewalk into the road. At that moment she realised that she had blamed the cat in vain, she had always been clumsy, always in the clouds.
Black cat could not move, he had been beaten and hurt, he knew this would happen one day, all the fear he felt from people finally had been acted out in a rage of violence. Here, he felt, was where he was going to die.
When Isabelle saw the black heap, she could not help the uncanny feeling she felt. She slowly moved toward it, and noticed that it was moving, as if breathing, slowly, struggling. She moved forward, and realised it was a cat, the same black cat that had been following her. She rushed to it and picked it up, holding it and crying at the pain that the cat was in. She could not let him die.
When she arrived home, with the black cat in her arms she nursed it, the vet had said that he would likely not make it and that Isabelle should be prepared. But she refused to give up. She prayed every day over the cat, not to a god, not to an angel, but to the spirit of the world, she held him every night and made sure he had food and water when she went to work. She started to notice a change in the cat, he was beginning to get lively, beginning to heal. When he finally healed she was overjoyed, her faith had been restored and she had saved her friend, the black cat. Black cat had a limp, but he could walk, the limp never left him, but that limp reminded Isabelle that although fear could be crippling, love was powerful and could heal. ”
I was overcome with the need to write this little tale, it is a small tale but one that is heartwarming. It reflects, in many ways a personal experience I had, it is inspired in part by the story of Precious Nielsen “Decency:A true story of goodness and the power of love” in Cakes and Ale for the Pagan Soul. Years ago, my granddad had found a box with two kittens, on the side of the road, one kitten was black the other was grey, their eyes had been glued shut and the vet took pains to get rid of the glue. They came home with my granddad and I kept them with me, I loved them dearly, the one I named Snowball, the other, Oliver. I had personally never believed black cats to be bad luck, I always found them to be beautiful, mysterious, and often affectionate. Oliver was a very loving cat and often sucked on our jerseys while kneading and purring. When he had to be put down after a few years due to kidney problems, it was incredibly painful for me. I knew that he had felt love, and I hoped that he would continue to feel my love. A number of the cats I’ve loved have been put down due to terrible illness like cancer or old age, and it has always been hard. When we got Willow and Sylvester, and Willow got infected with Cat flu, we did not think she would make it, but I loved her every day I prayed for he r everyday, not to live, but to heal, in whatever way was right, and she lived.
My ouma, once stopped her car, in the middle of a highway and saved a dachshund that was running around. Sally eventually developed cancer in her teets, but she knew love, boundless beautiful unconditional love. Many of our animals are rescued, our dogs, and cats. My lizard, was incredibly ill when I bought him from the pet store, but with help from the vet and our constant attention, he came right.
Many people unfortunately have experienced coming across a cat or dog who was beaten and despite the love they felt, the cat or dog had to die in order to heal, as it was too injured, death itself can heal, I never want a cat or any animal to suffer that kind of pain, and to die without knowing love, so I always love an animal, through to it’s possible last moment, so that it can know that the bounds of love go beyond the bounds of human cruelty.
Black cats are not bad luck, they are beautiful, and need extra protection often from psychopathic people who are superstitious, cruel or just sick. I would say the same for any animal, no matter its colour. Love them all, for they are closer to god than we…
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