Tempel the Kitten, Marking the Bed, Neutering, and Unconditional Love

The alarm went off at 6:00 a.m. “Oh,” I thought, “what’s going on today? Should I sleep a little longer?” Then my brain cells suddenly sprang to life.

No! Today is actually the day Charlie is getting neutered. “Get up now,” I tell myself: call a taxi, wake up my daughter. Say good morning to my sleeping son.

There’s Charlie, sitting there—he’s upset, and he’s making it very clear to me by the way he’s holding his ears and running between my legs, which he never does otherwise. Why is Charlie upset? He who almost always purrs with pure contentment? Because he’s been on a fast since last night. His food bowl is empty. Weekend treat, Mom!

I pet him; he doesn’t want to be petted. After a while, I approach him again; now he accepts a gentle pat, and I explain that today we’re going to the “cat doctor,” mentally picturing for him the Small Animal Clinic’s facilities and assuring him that I won’t abandon him. He comes close to me as if to say, “Mom, you’re forgiven this time,” and I realize something is about to happen.

What did I do yesterday? I happily and with quiet pride told a few people how house-trained my cat is 😂 So what did Charlie do last night? Well, for the first time since he came to live with us (as his forever home as a rescue cat), he decided, “Now I’m going to show my favorite person in this house just how unhappy I am.” No sooner said than done. Right after it happened, I heard a terrified cry: “Mom, he PEEED in my bed!”

I saw right away why. My son usually showers him with love and makes him the center of his teenage world. But yesterday, he didn’t even say hello to Charlie when he came home, even though Charlie approached him from a cautious distance while he was standing in the kitchen. A little surprised, I asked, “Aren’t you going to say hi to Charlie?” “Uh, I’m hungry,” he said, loading several slices of pizza into the air fryer he’d just bought. 

Charlie sees no love, not even a little piece of cat treat from the person he loves most of all. His son gets up and ignores the kitty.

Then, not long after, the “bed” incident happens right in the middle of my son’s teenage world.

I show my dear son the importance of constant love—that when you love someone, it doesn't work to just take all that love away one day.

Our Charlie is a real affectionate and cuddly kitty who values that very highly.

It might have been something else, but the fact that he chose—for the first time ever—to mark his territory somewhere, and that he did it in your bed, signals to me that he wants to make his dissatisfaction clear. 

Dear son, love is gentle; love is unconditional on many levels; love is not just loving when your heart is wide open and the sun is shining inside and out. Love is also showing love when you’re tired and don’t feel like you have much to give—that’s when you’re willing to make a little extra effort. A warm word, a genuine, heartfelt pat on the back—just for a moment. Then you go and recharge. 

Avoidant love hurts. It is a love that is warm and close but can be withdrawn at any moment. It creates insecurity both in human-to-human relationships and in human-to-animal relationships.

My son smiled when I mentioned "avoidant love." I'd almost bet he's seen a reel about it on TikTok—love that's avoidant. Avoidant attachment.

My son is so wise; he understood right away and didn't pull away any further just because Charlie had shown his displeasure in his bed. He came close again.

Yes, love should truly and deeply be a source of security for everyone involved💛

At 7:00 a.m., the taxi arrived. It was cold, rainy, dark, and gray. I’m carrying Charlie in his soft fabric carrier close to my heart. He doesn’t like riding in the car; he meows constantly, and I talk softly to him the whole way, humming a little because it calms him down.

 Once we’re at the vet’s office and he’s on the couch, he’s happy again—the car has driven off, and he’s cuddling and purring. I explain in my human words that he’s going to have a minor surgery and that I’ll pick him up later today. I send pictures to show him I’m not leaving him. There’s a warm atmosphere at the small animal clinic; the staff there have good hearts—you can really feel it.

When I'm back home, I continue to send Charlie telepathic messages from time to time, straight from my heart, to let him know that he's not alone—I'm with him.

I've had several cats in my life, both as a child and as an adult. I've liked them; there's been a sense of affection. But Charlie—he has a special place deep in my heart.

I remember—now I’m going back thousands of years in time. We are now in Lemuria. I’m standing near the sea, by my temple by the sea. Charlie is lying on the step. He is my revered temple cat. Everyone treats him with deep reverence. He is pure healing, pure love, and pure beauty as he lies there, squinting in Lemuria’s golden sunlight.

Back to the here and now. In our home live three human beings, each with a soul, and one cat, also with a soul. No one is above anyone else. No one is more or less evolved. We are different, but our deepest consciousness in the light is the same now as it was thousands of years ago.

With love and light and...meow

Frida SOLA’RAH