Our cat, Teasel, kills things. A lot of things. We didn't find him, he found us, having been dumped down the lane, and uses our house as a soft warm billet from which each night he goes a-roaming. Last year even weasels and stoats bowed down to his majesty and were mercilessly dispatched and brought back to us as presents. Don't blame us, we're also victims. Once a week for the eight years we've given him safe harbour he has snuffled up to me, purred and mewed and cosied up on my chest before lunging at the fat under my several chins. A proper bite. As if to say, I could if I wanted to, just so you know...
But lately, not so much. Something has scared the bejesus out of him and the last two months he's been near house-bound. A quick dash outside for a wee, and a quick dash back, and 23 hours snoozing. Even Bobby, who he has always treated half with sufficient regard and half with utter contempt, can now make Teasel's tail double in volume just by looking at him. So I guess the incident was probably with a dog. Maybe...
Anyway, instead of killing things all night, and bringing back the occasional living smackerel for us, and no we don't miss live voles on the duvet at 4 am, now he sleeps most the night. And has taken to having nightmares. Proper screamers. Like me when I've binged on a couple of episodes of the Walking Dead.
Now, assuming we accept consciousness as a reality and assuming we accept that cats experience consciousness in a similar way to us (in this case that they are the subject in their own dreams), this makes me wonder something.
When I was young and our dog had those leg twitching dreams, presumably of her chasing something in her sleep, (and which Bobby with his bambi legs does so beautifully), I was always told I should never wake the dog. Because she didn't know she was dreaming and to wake her could cause her distress. Another assumption, granted, but I have followed this rule through life and would never intentionally wake Bobby, nor Teasel, even though in the latter's case it would seem kinder to do so, as Anne sometimes does with me.
But taking this process to its logical end, isn't it possible that Teasel could actually not have been attacked at all in reality, but rather in a dream, but doesn't know the difference?
But lately, not so much. Something has scared the bejesus out of him and the last two months he's been near house-bound. A quick dash outside for a wee, and a quick dash back, and 23 hours snoozing. Even Bobby, who he has always treated half with sufficient regard and half with utter contempt, can now make Teasel's tail double in volume just by looking at him. So I guess the incident was probably with a dog. Maybe...
Anyway, instead of killing things all night, and bringing back the occasional living smackerel for us, and no we don't miss live voles on the duvet at 4 am, now he sleeps most the night. And has taken to having nightmares. Proper screamers. Like me when I've binged on a couple of episodes of the Walking Dead.
Now, assuming we accept consciousness as a reality and assuming we accept that cats experience consciousness in a similar way to us (in this case that they are the subject in their own dreams), this makes me wonder something.
When I was young and our dog had those leg twitching dreams, presumably of her chasing something in her sleep, (and which Bobby with his bambi legs does so beautifully), I was always told I should never wake the dog. Because she didn't know she was dreaming and to wake her could cause her distress. Another assumption, granted, but I have followed this rule through life and would never intentionally wake Bobby, nor Teasel, even though in the latter's case it would seem kinder to do so, as Anne sometimes does with me.
But taking this process to its logical end, isn't it possible that Teasel could actually not have been attacked at all in reality, but rather in a dream, but doesn't know the difference?
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