In the late minutes of the fourth hour this morning I was on the verge of waking. I had a dream of my cat. It has been over a month now and I hadn’t dreamt of him for a while. I guess it made me a bit more gullible in my subconscious this time.
I was in a bathroom in front of a sink. It was one I had never been in dream or real life. I was checking my teeth in the mirror. I suppose I had just brushed my teeth.
I saw my dad heading for the door behind me. I turned to look and I saw Peabody sitting there diagonally behind me near said door. I asked dad if he saw him, but my dad wasn’t there anymore. It was only my cat. In my previous dreams I would have been more aware of his inability to be there, but I was just so surprised to see him.
Now, whether I woke up in my dream or not, I was suddenly in my bed. The room was dim like my second dream of him last month. He was on that corner of the bed again. I thought it couldn’t be. How could he be there? I said his name in a disbelieving question. He didn’t respond. I repeated and eventually edged over. I reached out my hand, semi-knowing that I shouldn’t be able to feel him if it was just a hallucination.
I felt him. I cried out again in disbelief and joy. It was his softness… a softness none of the other cats in this house has. He gave a meow, warbled, not like how he sounded in real life, really, but I didn’t care. He responded. I woke up soon after. If it was abruptly after, I am not certain. I think I might have tried hugging him, and mid-way I awoke.
I didn’t burst into tears this time. The realization I was just dreaming didn’t hit me as hard this time. A pain returned to my chest once more near my heart… but it didn’t last. For a while I thought how I wish my cat was still here, how I had truly fallen for the dream this time. Then I hoped that wherever he was right now he was happy.
I lay in bed for a while and the pain in my chest subsided. No tears fell. My thoughts cleared and became a bit hazy. In my subconscious I wondered if he decided to visit me. I’m not very religious, but more hopeful than faithful in such matters. I… hope he really did visit me in my dream, though. I hope he is happy wherever he is, but decided to check on me. Selfish, sure… but it is a hope.

Sigh. Well. I had to write that down. I suppose I should write some other things too.
On the eighteenth, my brother left home that Wednesday. He and his semi-friend Mark left for the town all of us had left. He intends to work at the newspaper there as head press man. He’s in his apartment now and will hopefully do okay there.
On that same day my mom and I had doctor appointments. It was in that time frame my brother had left, so I don’t think anyone saw him off, unless he stopped by my dad’s workplace to say goodbye.
Thursday was nothing particularly special, but as note to what happened on Friday, my mom’s dog had killed a bird and wrestled with my dad’s dog with its limp corpse. At first my mother and I had no idea what he had in his mouth. She went out and got it away. When she said it was a dead bird, I headed to the other side of the room away from the back porch and shuddered.

Friday, when I was out in about that morning to clean the kitchen, my mother’s dog was barking. I looked to see if he was being tormented by seeing the birds high up in the trees. To my surprise he was barking at the ground. I hurried over, not thinking to put down the paper towels in my hands.
I looked out to see he was barking at some still form. I couldn’t tell what it was, so I opened the door, yelled at the dog and tried to shoo him away. It was a bird. It was huddled tight and still as stone. I feared it was dead, but I saw it blink.
I hurriedly redid the paper towels and wrapped them lightly about the bird as I picked it up. I took it back inside and placed it in my bathroom. It tried to move, but the tile was too slippery, so I lay the paper towels out and gently placed it on them while handling the bird with a hand towel. After placing its legs in a more comfortable position, since they were haphazard – I fears they were broken or injured anyway – I tried to dry it off a bit with the hand towel. It was missing feathers around its wings. I looked for wounds, but couldn’t tell.
Not knowing what to do by then I called my dad. He was of no particular help to me, I fear. In fact he made me upset since I wasn’t thinking as clearly as I usually would. The call ended and as I got my bearing more, I looked for some liquid Band-Aid wound sanitizer. I poured it on areas of the bird that might have been injured by my mother’s dog. It was supposed to be like water on wounds, so I didn’t expect the bird to feel pain from it.
I tried to clean it a bit more and then got some of my mom’s birdseed. I put it in a saucer and placed it next to the bird just in case it snapped out of its shock and needed food. I dimmed the lights and then closed the bathroom door behind me. I would leave it alone. I would check my computer and search for articles on injured birds.
I did so and then followed its directions. I looked around for a box. I didn’t know where any shoe boxes were, but I kept small ones in my closet. I took it, padded it with a wash cloth and reentered the bathroom.
Gently picking up the bird and placing it in the box, I made sure it was steady and upright and then tried to shade the top as much as possible but give it enough air. I turned off the light completely and left it to recuperate.
After a while I checked on it again. It was still immobile. I then did as the site said and took it outside. I placed the box down on the front porch and backed away. The bird stayed in it.
I later moved the box again. We had many bushes and I figured maybe it needed the covering and familiarity above it. The bird startled me in my last positioning effort to get it as far under the bush’s protection as possible. It didn’t make it far, but it had flapped it wings a bit and managed to perch itself on the ledges of the box. It remained still after that. I reentered the house and left it alone again.
Maybe an hour later I looked again to see if it managed to fly away. I didn’t see him. I went to reach for the box, but caught sight of him in the bush – yeah I have pretty sharp eyes at times. I studied it for a while. I still couldn’t tell what sort of bird it was. I left it alone then.
By noon I went out again to check and found it was no longer in the bush. I hoped it managed to fly away. I then reentered the house.
My dad came home for lunch and let his dog out. I told him all that happened. He told me a lady at work told him I should have put it in a box and such. I did that.
While my dad and I watched his dog, eventually the pup wandered over to the bushes. I became suspicious and headed over. Two bushes away from the one I last saw the bird in, I found it once more. It had managed to move maybe two yards and sought solace in a different area.
My dad ordered his dog away from it and I pointed out the bird to him. He couldn’t tell what it was either. We left it alone then.
I don’t know when I checked on it again, but it was gone. I looked around to see if it migrated to any other bushes. It didn’t. Thus, I could only hope it finally regained its strength and managed to fly somewhere safer.
When my mom came home we went out to eat. We talked about it. While I didn’t feel anything particularly about it, my logical, intellectual side pondered if there was any therapeutic value in what happened that day. It had only been a month and about two weeks since I lost my pet. This creature I managed to keep alive. I really have no idea, but I pondered.
Saturday was usual as ever. Now it is Sunday.