I can’t believe I started a cat blog. I mean – already the fact of me getting a cat is probably already something my shrink could consider ‘interesting enough to develop further’. Probably she’d be happy because I can even tell a traumatic early childhood experience.
Our family had cats when I was small. I only remember two things: one of the cats was orange. Second, they were lost and came never back. I blamed my poor grandmother. Thinking about it now, I probably never really forgave her.
We had a weekend house in a rural area, a 45 minutes’ drive away from my hometown. We used to go there every weekend and brought the cats along. I’m not sure whether this counts as third memory; I don’t remember that the cats were in the car, but I do remember where my second memory took place. So probably not. I have to ask my shrink. After all, she is earning good money on me.
My grandmother was often joining us; like our cats, my parents probably also wanted to enjoy some freedom from us. So far so good. One Friday, we couldn’t go directly after school to our weekend house. And for some reason, my grandmother went up front and took our cats along. I’ve to ask my mother about that. Ok, she doesn’t earn money on that, but after all, most mothers like to talk about stuff that happened when you were small. Especially when you were so young, that you can’t contradict her version of events.
Anyways, where was I? I really need to start working on this thing called focusing. Problem is: we never ever saw these cats again. It didn’t help that my parents tried to protect granny: in my opinion, it was her fault. This may be even true. Maybe the cats didn’t like granny? Maybe they felt abolished? Were angry? Or maybe my granny really wanted to get rid of them? I’ll never know. Thank God I have a shrink.