The black cat and I have an agreement. At least I have an agreement about the cat, and most of the time he acknowledges it.
It’s not our cat; it’s a neighbor’s. However, this cat believes that our yard is his territory for stalking.
Since I can’t persuade him to stay out of our yard entirely, the agreement we have is that he may not stalk under the bird feeders.
He keeps that agreement most of the time, but I have to remain alert.
Occasionally, I see him edging towards a feeder. A knock on the window or a “hey you” from me, stops him. As he leaves, he gives me a look that says, “Well, this time you are in charge, but I’ll be back,” and saunters off.
As a black cat, he is the symbol of this time of the year; where everyday houses can become haunted houses, corn mazes can turn scary, and children don costumes for trick-or-treat.
It’s fun. We like being “pretend scared”.
It’s the real-scared that we don’t like. We don’t like being afraid. We run and hide from our fears; falsely believing that if we don’t think of them, they aren’t present.
Actually, unless they are unmasked, they are always present and running our lives behind the scenes. Like the black cat, they are always stalking and aware of their target: our peace of mind, the expression of our true self, and the quality of our lives.