Queen Mog, the Epileptic Cat
Our cat, Morrigan Crow, nearly died when she was a tiny, tri-coloured kitten, all pink nose and hissing fury. She was too small when she was rescued, motherless, from beneath a bin by two kind souls and then she came to us. Mighty even then, she grew older and wary. She now walks in liminal spaces, this soft, elusive girl. Some visitors to our home never spy her, the spryest of shadows. She appears at night to sneak into my son’s room and sit quietly upon his bed. Sometimes she stares into the air, engrossed in unseen spectres. Her brain sparked while she slept; only occasionally, then more and more, lightning storms raging in her midbrain. Her convulsions did not last long. Twenty seconds would pass, leaving a deeper impression on my psychology than hers. She is soft after a seizure. Gentle. She searches us out, purring loudly and demanding cuddles. We wipe her chin and help to restore her dishevelled coat to its usual pristine lustre. Starving hungry after an episode, she requests food next, having satisfied her need for reassurance. I call this post-episode meal ‘seizure snacks.’ Restless, she stalks around us, chest rumbling, but ultimately okay. Until one day, she was not. The seizures broke, one after another, crashing upon her body like waves. Relentless. That storm lasted twenty-four hours. She could barely move with no time to recover before the next surge. I thought we might have to say goodbye after only three years together. The vet sedated her and trialled various doses of medicines until she found one that dampened the sparks. Now, twice a day we prise open her mouth, sharp teeth gleaming, to deposit a quarter of a tablet past the growl in her throat. Queen Mog the Epileptic Cat is teaching me lessons in resilience, having my needs met, and treading gently after a setback.
This Stack is comprised of my personal essays and poetry. It’s not neat, or written to a theme and tied with a bow. Much of it is healing, or sharing about the challenging and beautiful parts of my life.
Thank you for reading my words. I appreciate you, and send love from the gum forest into your day: May it sparkle a bit brighter.