I think I might know where I was for at least part of the 20th century before this life.
I might have been one of my grandfather’s cats.
The memory started with the sound of purring, but much closer than I’d ever heard it, as if it was coming from me, but I was only faintly aware that I might be the one purring. There was a flash of white and shades of gray before me but as my eyes adjusted I noticed it was shadows playing on white fur.
I don’t know if I was solid white. I might have been mostly white with some black or some other color or patter in a few isolated patches.
I remember the sound the vacuum cleaner made too. Recognizably a vacuum cleaner, but I heard a different part of the sound. It sounded lower pitched for some reason, like my ears were tuned lower to hear the high frequencies of small prey. I remember that’s why I liked it when they talked in a high-pitched voice to me, it didn’t sound so deep and threatening.
It was running from that vacuum cleaner that I noticed the room looked an awful lot like the kitchen in my grandfather’s old house.
Now, Grandpa and his second wife moved into that house before I was born so I know that part’s possible. I also know Grandpa had many cats over the years but I don’t know if he had a white one while he was in that one house or not. I’ll have to ask Mom or Dad.
That would be interesting if I was his cat, though honestly not what I’d expected. Sure, I like cats, but never felt like I was one. I feel more that sort of affinity with canids in that respect.
Still, I guess that might explain why I was fond of that house.
Grandpa had been in Vietnam, and he was never the same when he came back. Trauma from the war cost him his first marriage, his mind, and his body. He was an alcoholic and a chain smoker who spent most of the rest of his life under the control of a rich but manipulative second wife who enabled his bad habits and let him live rent-free in exchange for total control of his life.
He was one of the lucky ones… many in his position ended up homeless or dead. It’s impossible to function going through that. I think those cats of his probably kept him holding on as long as he did.
Wouldn’t it be something if I had been his cat, considering what happened to me in an earlier life? Almost seems too convenient to be true and that makes me wonder if it is. Still, it does bear looking into.