Last summer my wife, kids, and I began feeding a feral black cat that showed up around our house. Over time it became comfortable enough with us that it let us pick it up, play with it, and generally love on it. He roamed the neighborhood during the day but he would always come back to our yard and house in the late afternoon and spend the night in the tall grass in our side yard. He was a good cat and, for all intents and purposes, we considered him our pet. One night in late fall, I dreamt that someone pulled into our driveway and ran him over. Blood was everywhere, the driveway covered in a thick red river. I went to check on the cat and he was laying on his side, completely disemboweled, struggling to breathe. As I bent down to pick him up, he “melted” away, leaving behind a patches of fur and teeth amidst the blood. I immediately woke up, realized it was a dream, and went back to bed. In the morning, I woke up to my wife crying hysterically in our bedroom. I immediately knew why. “The cat is dead, isn’t he?” I asked. “Yes.” she said. She told me she’d gone outside to feed him and was surprised that he wasn’t waiting at the door, as he usually did. She went to where he slept in the side yard and found patches of fur and a large blood stain in the grass, just like what I saw in my dream. Something, probably a coyote, had gotten to him during the night and tore him to pieces. I still don’t know what to make of this. A part of me thinks I heard the attack while I slept and my brain processed it as a morbid dream. Another part of me thinks he was communicating with me in some way, begging me to come to his rescue and that if I had just gone to check on him when I awoke from my dream, he would still be alive.
submitted by /u/gordita_brunch
[link] [comments]Last summer my wife, kids, and I began feeding a feral black cat that showed up around our house. Over time it became comfortable enough with us that it let us pick it up, play with it, and generally love on it. He roamed the neighborhood during the day but he would always come back to our yard and house in the late afternoon and spend the night in the tall grass in our side yard. He was a good cat and, for all intents and purposes, we considered him our pet. One night in late fall, I dreamt that someone pulled into our driveway and ran him over. Blood was everywhere, the driveway covered in a thick red river. I went to check on the cat and he was laying on his side, completely disemboweled, struggling to breathe. As I bent down to pick him up, he “melted” away, leaving behind a patches of fur and teeth amidst the blood. I immediately woke up, realized it was a dream, and went back to bed. In the morning, I woke up to my wife crying hysterically in our bedroom. I immediately knew why. “The cat is dead, isn’t he?” I asked. “Yes.” she said. She told me she’d gone outside to feed him and was surprised that he wasn’t waiting at the door, as he usually did. She went to where he slept in the side yard and found patches of fur and a large blood stain in the grass, just like what I saw in my dream. Something, probably a coyote, had gotten to him during the night and tore him to pieces. I still don’t know what to make of this. A part of me thinks I heard the attack while I slept and my brain processed it as a morbid dream. Another part of me thinks he was communicating with me in some way, begging me to come to his rescue and that if I had just gone to check on him when I awoke from my dream, he would still be alive. submitted by /u/gordita_brunch [link] [comments]
