We Fought, This Beast and I

We fought, this narcissistic beast and I.

I’m Dana’s husband, Dwayne, and the creature invaded my cozy man-cave when Dana needed to sell her house. In my mind, at least at the time, the beast was an extension of Dana herself, so I treated it well. I fed it, cleaned up after it, and even drugged it (cat-nip) in an attempt to make it feel it at home.

In return, it demanded attention, crawling in my lap when I tried typing on my laptop, waking me at 4:30 in the morning to be fed, reminding me when it needed scratching, and so on.

Little did I realize just how much of an extension of Dana it truly was. Even now when my love feels that she isn’t getting my full attention, and she grabs my ears with both hands and says, “ME! I’m the center of your universe!” … even now I can hear a slight “meow” to her voice.

I saw much of Dana in the mannerisms of the beast. It would approach strangers with wild trust and offer its affection and friendship. Yet it withdrew at the hint of disapproval, even to the point of turning a cold shoulder and appearing angry.

It had a knack for tripping my trigger … knocking over a glass, jumping on counters, and, did I mention, waking me at 4:30 in the morning!

But, when I was angry enough to throw the beast through the window, it would reach up with its furry little furry paw (you’ll need to ask Dana about the “furry little furry” line) and stroke my face. Where, I ask, did it learn to do that? The affection it demonstrated at times was definitively more dog-like than many dogs I’ve known.

Dana’s own struggles with her self-confidence, with emotions, with hurt and pain … have all been mirrored to one degree or another in the feline monstrosity.

Monstrosity? Yes, the word was chosen carefully, for the beast pursued its own ends, constantly tried to escape, terrorized the dog, and stole entire chicken strips from my dinner plate! While it offered affection and sought attention, it did so on its terms. I realize that’s par for the course for cats, but the analogy of being an extension of Dana continues.

You see, when Dana and I first dated, we would have wonderful visits, and … not … so … wonderful … visits! We fought and angered one another as we walked through the minefield of past baggage and ingrained habits. At times I represented an extension of her past, and she lived her old fears and defenses in front of me. And in her most cat-like moments, she offered affection and attention, but she was inclined to do so on her terms.

For so long, she was a woman torn by her past. She tried to escape pain, terrorized others in acts of self-defense, and probably stole chicken strips when people weren’t looking.

But something changed shortly before I met her several years ago. Something broke inside as God crushed her life to bring forth a sweet wine. As I mentioned, we had our difficulties through dating, and perhaps, if she ever lets me invade her blog again, I’ll share some of those with you. But what I saw in our good times was irresistibly attractive … she trusted me, heard my worst sins, cried, laughed, talked (wow, did she talk!), and wove a web that I couldn’t untangle even if I wanted … which I don’t.

We share a level of honesty and trust that is alien to me, or at least it was. She knows that she is loved and understood without question. When she tells me she respects me and admires me as a man, I believe her and don’t feel manipulated. When she tells me her fears and misgivings, I know there are no hidden agendas, only someone I love baring her soul before me. When she expresses anger toward me (and she’s VERY good at that), I know she’s upset and I know exactly why … no guesses, she tells me.

And when she stood in the kitchen yesterday and cried on my shoulder because her cat was missing, I knew how much she was hurting. Some part of her ran out the door with the beast into the unknown … some part that longed for old pains because they were familiar. You see, the analogy she drew with the cat and dog very much tells the story of her own metamorphosis. Perhaps in some way that only God can see, it was time for the cat to go. Perhaps the cat has been a living metaphor.

If it comes back, we’ll rejoice, knowing that something has changed.

If it doesn’t, then we’ll move forward with a greater appreciation for what the creature taught us, and showed us about ourselves. Even the daughter appreciated the greater truth as she lectured the dog on not leaving his loving home for “the lie” of freedom outside.

I’m not glad to see the cat gone, but breaking the analogy only slightly, I am so glad to see what my wife is today, as opposed to what she was in the past. She is the most wonderful creature I’ve ever met. I love every laugh and every sob that escapes her lips. She changes me daily, helping me be the man I never was before. THIS is what love truly is … and, in some small way, the cat helped us see that.

We fought, this beast and I …