If Only I Could be the Person My Cat Thinks I Am

“If only I could be the person my cat thinks I am” broadcasts brazenly on the back bumper of my aging understatedly gray Toyota. . .. pretty much summarizes years of my trying to be whoever I think those around need me to be. Not actually spineless enabling wimpiness, although during the 80’s I would have readily confessed to lethal codependency. Of course, a part of me would readily confess to anything given a confrontive or questioning stare.

I am from Minnesota. I can now say without shame that I am extremely adaptive, resourceful and flexible, a “ yoga pretzel” personality. Under my breath you can hear a semi-audible mantra mutter “surely there is a way….we just don’t know what it is yet.” Through the years what seemed a delusional, naïve or emotional perspective has created a valid string of events. The process was sometimes invisible, mostly crazy, but results often miracles beyond logic.

Right brained, intuitive, rambling, free associating my way through life, loving possibilities, cheated by cut and dried conclusions. I came from a “bottom line”, ‘just the facts ma’m” cultural mentality, pragmatic and mathematical, not magical and musical. I was a misfit, starting sentences in midstream, watching others look at me puzzled or critical. I might have a certifiable thought disorder but enjoyed it. My children and husband learned my language… so kind of them to do so. Others just treated me as dumb or blonde, or demented. One supervisor suggested I use lined paper, but when I offered to modify my style she begged me not to, saying that someone had to embody Erma Bombeck’s legacy.

Yes, I confused people, but added color, humor and surprise to life. I used to feel embarrassed, wrong, but later saw delight in dancing with the unexpected. A test? If people “get it” we travel intimately together into a rich land of playful, poignant possibility. If they don’t…I speak the language of “concrete” and temporarily put my soul on hold.

I am capable of precise communication, especially when others need it from me. I love the playfulness of words and the energy of discovering where you are going after you arrive. My world of origin was deductive; my self was inductive. It took years before I met anyone else like me….of course we could not have straightforwardly communicated that fact with each other…..so it would be expected to take a while. My brain just would not bend to the left.

My many animals, angels of comfort and comradeship, always passed the test; they knew who I was. These fur friends, from an 8 ounce black and white rat, to a l300 pound paint horse, were my playmates, cheerleaders, healers, mentors, guardians, comedians, nannies, psychotherapists, entertainers and travel guides. Their unique “animalities” (animal personalities) sniffed out what’s essential to life, teaching compassion, patience, perseverance, curiosity, commitment, sensitivity. Every morning, as in scripture, I awaken to new mercies as cuddling under my arm is mini-cat, “Mercy”……who definitely knows who I am but loves me anyway.