Saphera:
Sufferance and Silence
ÒO my master,
Do not expect me to be your slave, I have a
thirst for freedom.
Do not probe my secret thoughts, I have a
love of mystery.
Do not smother me with caresses, I have a
preference for reserve.
IÕll return your love for me, I have a
sense of true devotion.Ó
-
Belgian traditional[1]
Saphera (though she is yet to be called
that), is small—only ten days old. Gone are the rooms with the big walls
that housed her first days of life. Now, she is surrounded by cardboard. In
those first ten days, everything was good and warm and easy. And it stayed just
like that until the tenth morning, when her feeding time was ripped short. Saphera
could hear the young humansÕ crying as the big one came closer to SapheraÕs
family nest. The children were running behind the bigger human, pulling at his
legs.
ÒPlease,Ó they said, Òplease donÕt.Ó
Saphera was alarmed, though she didnÕt
know why, and pushed closer into the thick coat and skin of her motherÕs
warmth. Plucked from her motherÕs nipple, she and her sisters were bundled into
a dark bag. The sounds of the children crying slowly faded. The bag swung
without care, causing the siblings to become bruised and scratched. Their claws
became caught in each otherÕs skin, causing unintentional wounds from one kitten
to the next. Much time passed in that dark bag. They felt fear for the first
time in their lives—the first realization that they were away from their
mother. Their mews for her were relentless, though they had lost the sounds of her
replies long ago.
ÒWhere is she?Ó asked one sister.
ÒWhat did we do to her?Ó asked another.
The bundle was dumped from the bag into a
cardboard box. When they turned their heads upwards to the sight of the big
humanÕs face, Saphera knew that it was not her mother that was angry with them,
but this one towering above them. The face was pulled and distorted, aggressive
words fell down upon them. Saphera did not know what ÒnuisanceÓ, ÒdirtyÓ and
ÒloudÓ meant. The sounds felt sharp and hurtful. Terrified, the sisters moved
closer together, trying to squash all the space between them. With one last
unidentifiable word, the human walked away.
After only ten days of life, the
cardboard box became Saphera and her siblingsÕ new home. It stayed like this
until the cardboard disintegrated away from the rain and heat of the Texas
weather. Without the safety of the box, her siblings wandered their own ways
and Saphera found herself alone. She wondered where the othersÕ got their confidence.
Saphera felt rooted to the spot, though she did not understand why. She had had
no guidance, and was unsure of what lay ahead. Her memories of being bagged and
dumped were still fresh in her head – was that bad human out there too?
Were there more of them? She stayed where the box once was, where the family
had its last months together. Her spot was out in front of a concrete warehouse.
There was an old car that she could shelter under, and some grass spurting from
the cracks in the road. Here she called home, under the sun and the moon and
the heat and the rain. In solitude, she forgot about company; what it was like
to have somebody else around.
Though she is eight months old now, she
has not grown much. She is unsure of what to eat, and though a deep sniff of
the scraps that float by can sometimes determine what is edible, she has never
been taught what is good and what is not. She sees big rats scamper by in the night;
she hides under the car and watches what they eat. In the day, she feeds on
what they leave behind or copies their taste in scraps. Sometimes she is
compelled to nibble on the grass in the cracks of the pavement.
Loud noises disrupt an afternoon nap.
There are people walking in and out of the warehouse. They stand in front of
the old car that she hides under, and shake their heads. A week later, while
she is sleeping in the morning, Saphera is put in another bag. This time, she
has no one to hold onto. She has not used her voice in a long time and when she
calls out—help, help! she is
shocked by the sound of the meow. But this time the ride in the bag is not too
rough, and the hands that greet her are slow, gentle. Once carefully pulled from the
bag, humans stroke her black coat. They coo sounds that make her feel calmer.
She does not know what to do. All she knows is to run, but there is nowhere to
go. All she knows is defense, but there is no attack. She is bathed and put in
a cage, the lights are turned off. Promptly, she falls asleep – the most
exhausted she has felt since ten days old.
Saphera wakes to the sound of a hundred
cats talking, and the overwhelming smell of each personality. She learns she is
in a place that is called a shelter; a home for cats just like her. A tag is placed
above her cage. It reads: ÒSapheraÓ. Many of the cats here know each other
already, or talk about their lives on the streets, banded together with other cats
that didnÕt make it in to the shelter. Saphera does not know what to say, she
has been alone for so long.
Time passes, and she is put in a bigger
cage with other cats. She listens, and watches, but does not want to play.
Where are her siblings? Their faces are only a slight memory for her now. Big
and little humans come in and poke and play with all the cats. They touch
Saphera; hang toys in front of her face, waiting for her to do something. She
does not like this kind of confrontation. She is at most peace when left un-hassled
in the corner, free to look out at her surroundings without expectation. The
other cats tease, but end up ignoring her. They do not get along. She is moved
back to a solitary cage.
This is where she spends her days now.
Alone, only two years old. She watches playful kittens come in, three weeks
old, and be adopted out a few days later. They meow with pleasure as they go.
Would she want that? Where would she go? With each day that passes, her
surroundings grow less and less new. She has looked at the big cage at the top
of the room a thousand times, sat on her little ramp even more. She has seen it
all from this cage, and there is nothing left to do but watch. Humans come in,
looking, sounding and smelling different to each other, maybe one of them will
take her – none of them do. They just poke their fingers in the cage and
wait for Saphera to do something. She wants neither to be touched by these
strangers, nor to stay in her cage. Her life has become limited to the things
she does not want. But with this understanding of the bad, Saphera has an
unconscious feeling that there must be something good out there, too. Her body,
her soul yearns for it. But for now, Saphera waits.
~
And
what is it in a human that Saphera is waiting for? Is it an individual who
engages deeply enough with their sympathetic imagination that they are able to empathize
with SapheraÕs sensitive and unique social complex, thus understanding her
needs? Or is it someone looking for a quiet and non-demanding cat, who will give
her space, simply because they themselves do not want someone loud, attention
seeking and playful? I believe that within the more compassionate context of an
animal shelter than say, a pet store, it is rare for an adopteeÕs reasoning to
be strictly one or the other. Unfortunately, despite having said this, I feel
compelled to believe that the choice in cat is predominantly determined by the
latter way of thinking. That is, the adopter chooses the cat they feel is right
for them, based on a surface-level observation of the animalÕs behavior, which
is then related back to the adopterÕs own needs. This would explain why
Saphera, along with the many other cats at Austin Pets Alive! that have more challenging
and complex personalities, are often the ones left at the shelter for longest
amount of time.
The reasoning for this immediate, and
perhaps unconscious association human beings have between their surroundings
and how they can make those surroundings most beneficial for themselves is
suggested in RilkeÕs poem ÒThe Eighth ElegyÓ.
Rilke proclaims that human beings are subject to a perception that is ÒAlways
looking into, never out of, everythingÓ[2].
For though we may try, and perhaps be successful at a deep analysis of a thing
outside of ourselves, we start this analysis from our own being and often
remain rooted in an understanding that is structured and limited by our own form
as human beings. However by looking out of, rather than into, by basing our
engagement with the thing (in this case the cat) through the sympathetic
imagination, we can practice empathy, and become closer to understanding the
unique and radically different being of a cat. For the project of the
sympathetic imagination is not simply about searching for similarities between
two beings—it is about leaving the human ego behind, and exploring the
unknown territory of another animalÕs reality.
Image One: Engaging the Sympathetic Imagination
In
the novel Disgrace, Coetzee depicts
the protagonistÕs perception of a dog as follows: ÒÉwit and beauty. With the
best will in the world he could not find wit in Melani. But plenty of beautyÓ[3].
The problem the protagonist has encountered in their observation of Melani is a
product of the same perceptual basis suggested by Rilke. CoetzeeÕs protagonist
is obviously a relatively compassionate and sensitive person due to his ability
to perceive beauty in the animal. However, his problem lies in his
attempt—using his Òbest will in the worldÓ, to find a relatable wit in
the animal. He struggles, and concludes that it has none. What the protagonist
has failed to do is to look out of,
not into the animal. The animal does have wit, but it is a wit that is based,
and only makes sense within the existence of a dog—a sentient being that
exists as a radically different living form to the human being. We cannot
expect to find our understanding of wit in the being of a dog. The dog is not a
human being and therefore cannot have the same cognitive and perceptive
qualities as us.
Thus
the importance of the project of the sympathetic imagination: ÒÉ
to penetrate the barrier which space puts between him and his
object, and, by actually entering into the object, so to speak, to secure a
momentary but complete identification with itÓ[4].
Once entering the object (in my
case Saphera the cat), I was to look out at the world with her eyes, try to
make sense of it as she would, however momentary that identification would be.
When I first looked into SapheraÕs large amber eyes, I was struck—caught
up in the intensity and defensiveness of her soul. I felt a form of fear.
Whether that fear was my own, produced from the sheer force of her projection
onto my own psyche, or whether I was channelling her own fear, I am yet to
understand. I suspect it was a mixture of both. But it certainly took me aback,
and made me feel uncomfortable. I looked around to the other kittens and cats
in the larger group cages, playing carefree and vocally with the humans,
seemingly enjoying their interactions. I looked back to Saphera, alone in her
solitary cage, worry and mistrust in her eyes and felt a deep sympathy for her.
Why was she alone? Why did she not like my attention? I would not get these
answers simply by feeling sorry for her. I sat down to her eye level and opened
her door, though I did not reach in. We gazed into each otherÕs eyes for a
short while, and I sensed her defensive stare back down. Without words, I tried
to tell her that I was not here to harass her; I was here just to be, alongside
her. As the Zen Buddhist Reverend Professor Margaret Syverson suggests, the most effective form of
care is simply oneÕs presence of just being with that is often the greatest
presence[5]. To be in the present
moment, without expectations from the future or distractions from the
past—to rest in the present with Saphera in a state of unobtrusive
calmness. Maybe then I could level with Saphera and be able to look out with
her, rather than trying to just see in.
Image
Two: Saphera Looking Out at the World
Deciding
against the suggestion in our class instructions, I did not try to take her to
the petting room. It was evident that Saphera would not enjoy such interactions,
and would only close herself off further to me. With our extremely limited
physical interaction, the gateway to SapheraÕs soul was in her eyes. I was
reminded of the line in the Belgian traditional poem: ÒDo not probe my secret thoughts, I have a
love of mysteryÓ[6].
It was evident that Saphera believed in this, and that there was no way of
probing the story out of her. Not that I needed the details: SapheraÕs behavior
made it clear in itself. This two-year-old girl had been hurt, and as such had
an aversion to physical contact, and a reservation for her trust. I did not
expect trust, or anything for that matter. I only aspired to gain some insight
into her being. It was through our leveled gaze that I felt her suffering,
confusion and pain. That in itself was enough to tell her story. To then write
up a fictionalized account of her background would help me more deeply
articulate her expressions, and come to understand the trajectory of her life. I
had to move further outside of myself while writing from myself—the true
art in creative writing.
Image Three: Engaging in the Sympathetic
Imagination through Literature
Link One: Perhaps the writerÕs practice
of the sympathetic imagination explains why so many famous writers were cat
lovers, click on this link to see the photographic evidence: http://writersandkitties.tumblr.com/
After
writing SapheraÕs story, I feel I understand her existence more deeply—in
its similarities to my own, but also in its striking differences. My engagement
with the sympathetic imagination was fleeting, though the passing on of her
suffering and confusion was enough to communicate the importance of each
sentient beingÕs life. Thus I consider my engagement a success, particularly in
the unexpected fear and alienation I felt when reaching her soul. Saphera, like
all cats at the Austin Pets Alive! shelter is privileged to have made it to the
shelter, yet deserves a life outside of what can be provided for her there. I
sincerely hope this project aids in her adoption.
Video
One: Help Adopt Saphera
Word
Count with Quotations: 2,665
Word
Count without Quotations: 2,453
URL
Address of Blog Version:
https://courses.utexas.edu/webapps/portal/frameset.jsp
Index of Images:
Image
One - http://weheartit.com/entry/23996209
Image
Two - Taken by author, Neika Lehman.
Image
Three - http://criticsandbuilders.typepad.com/.a/6a00d834515e0d69e2015392487040970b-800wi
Index of Links and Videos:
Link
One - http://writersandkitties.tumblr.com/
Video
One – Shot by author, Neika Lehman.
Appendix:
SAPHERA
Saphera is a
quiet, shy and gentle girl in need of a loving home. Her jet-black coat is soft
and shiny - the perfect backdrop for her gorgeous amber eyes. Not much of a
talker, her giant orbs really is the gateway to her gentle soul. Like many of
the cats here at Austin Pets Alive! we do not know much about SapheraÕs
history, but we do think Saphera would find most comfort in an environment where
she can find some simple peace and quiet, and the space to do her favorite
activity: watching with ease as the world passes by. Saphera is a dreamer, yet
very aware of her surroundings. She takes great interest in the world around
her, spending much of her time looking out of her cage in wonder as the world
goes by. Saphera wants more than anything a life outside of her cage. And
despite her shy demeanor, we can say this girl will not say no to the
occasional cuddle!
Saphera is
non-demanding, and she asks the same of you. We think the perfect home for her
is a place where she has room to grow, away from any threats. No longer a
kitten, but not yet a mature lady, Saphera still has so much of her life to
live, and to grow into the loving cat that we can see in her eyes. She would be
perfect for single or older couples, without the disturbance (at first) of
young children or dogs. With a little tender care, we can see this little lady
going a long way. Choose Saphera as your new companion and help her live the
life she deserves!
All APA! foster kittens/cats are litter
box trained, tested for FeLV/FIV, spayed/neutered, vaccinated, treated for
worms/fleas, microchipped and come with a 30-day health insurance plan. If
you have additional questions about Saphera, please send an e-mail to adopt@austinpetsalive.org.
URL
to her page:
http://www.austinpetsalive.org/adopt/available-cat-details/?ID=17509364
FORREST
Coolheaded, wise
and calm – Forrest is the quiet dude of the Austin Pets Alive! shelter.
Forrest takes it easy looking out at the world at his own pace, and loves a
good scratch under the chin. Being a Domestic Short Hair mix, Forest has a low
maintenance, great looking coat of the white and black tuxedo pattern, complete
with a cute black patch on his paw. His little pink nose and olive green eyes
finish it all off, making him one of the handsomest older gents (six years old)
at the shelter.
But donÕt get us
wrong about his age – this boy still has plenty of energy on his paws.
And health wise, Forrest is a big guy in great condition! Always eager to see
whatÕs what, Forrest is ready for a home where he has the space and time to
explore his new surroundings at his own leisure. Like some older fellows, heÕd
rather not be too bothered by young children. But with some time in a
supportive environment, we can picture Forrest being open to the company of
other friendly animals. HeÕd be a great role model cat!
Like many of the
animals here at Austin Pets Alive!, we do not know much about ForrestÕs
history. But having been with us at the shelter for a while now, we can say
relaxed and easy-going Forrest would be a great companion to settle down with
in an environment suited to his charming personality. This humble gent would be
best suited to single or older couples. Help give Forrest the comfortable home
he has been waiting for!
All APA! foster kittens/cats are litter
box trained, tested for FeLV/FIV, spayed/neutered, vaccinated, treated for
worms/fleas, microchipped and come with a 30-day health insurance plan. If
you have additional questions about Saphera, please send an e-mail to adopt@austinpetsalive.org.
URL now
unavailable to ForrestÕs page: hopefully he has been adopted!
The Following Images and Video by the Author, Neika
Lehman
