When I was a small child I had waking nightmares that still make my skin crawl. There were black and fuschia vultures on the ceiling flying in lazy circles. I slept with my arms above my head because claymation creepy crawlers were all over my covers and trying to get under them. I tried to overcome them, then I'd try to tolerate them, then I'd lose it and scream for Mother. They ran away from Mother. All family remedies were tried, but there was only tolerate them or scream for Mother.
Until that night, that night where things change that comes in every story, even if it's just poor, bald death. I was lying there miserable when a small white cat came, a kitten really. For once there was something more to think about than the creepy crawlers and the vultures. Kitty was vulnerable and needed protecting, so that's what I did. I wrapped myself around the kitten and went to sleep. I slept better than I had in a long time. I was heart-broken the next morning when I woke up and the kitten was gone. Mother was glad I'd slept in, but very confused about my new cat. The nightmares were gone for good, and the strategy of finding courage by protecting others has always paid off.
But I still miss the cat.
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