Why I Named This Blog “Ghostcat”

So you’re wondering why I named this blog “Ghostcat”.  Ghost cat is another name for a cougar.  According to The U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service, the Eastern Cougar (Puma concolor couguar) is no longer endangered; it’s extinct.  Seriously, they declared it so last April.  Google it, if you don’t believe me.  Extinct.  Dead.  Gone.

I’m going to tell you they are wrong.  On the web, there are lots of reports of cougar sightings (http://green.blogs.nytimes.com/2011/03/05/the-eastern-cougar-dead-or-alive/?ref=fishandwildlifeservice).  A pale, camel-colored 6 or 8 foot long cat runs across the road, past a hunter, through a yard, and it’s gone before anyone can take a photo.  There’s no footprints, no fur, no spoor.  It just disappears.  So does livestock, sometimes.  Spooky, right? 

Oh, sometimes a cougar’s captured, or shot and we’re told that it was a “pet” that escaped or was set free.  But sometimes the cat is just seen, and then it’s gone.

That’s the nature of a cougar.  They’re secretive, fast, and roam large territories.  They avoid people as much as possible, preferring to hunt deer in solitude.  But people are so arrogant, they think that cougars are too stupid to smell their presence, to see, smell, and avoid the cameras set up in the woods.

How do I know this? 

I’m what you would call a shape-changer.  I can take on the shape of a cougar.  I’m part Native American, Seneca, and ever since I can remember, I’ve had this ability.  Aunt Lina’s not just my aunt; she’s my teacher, my mentor.  She’s a shifter, too; she’s a bear-woman.  She’s told me that there hadn’t been a cougar-child born in the Eastern U.S. for more than a generation, because the Eastern Cougar had disappeared or run north to Canada.  Canadian tribes had only a few cougar-children, but there had been none born in the Eastern States since WWII.  Plenty in the West, but none in the East.  Until me.  I’m also this big secret.  Only the Elders like Aunt Lina know—none of the cousins, like Ron or Lizzie are in on it.

No, it’s not a part of the lunar cycle, nor is it like one of those hairy wolf-man movies, some long, painful process.  The best way I can explain is to say it’s like passing from one place to another, lifting a curtain aside to become that other me. Try asking someone “How do you blink?” or “How do you move your fingers?”  There’s no good answer, you just do it.  I knew a man who could wiggle his ears.  He couldn’t explain how, he just knew he could.  It’s like that I guess.

So, that’s what I was up to last night and that’s why I don’t want to move.

You don’t believe me, right?  THAT’S THEY BEAUTY OF A BLOG!  This could be all bullcrap; a figment of an overactive imagination.  That’s why I’m putting this out there?  Duh!  I have my reasons.  I don’t expect you to understand….I just hope that you read this. 

Now, back to what’s going on at home.   Lizzie & Ron were up early with me the morning after Aunt Lina came home.  Lizzie makes great pancakes; she wanted to make a batch for Ron before he left for college.  They both were a little uncomfortable at first, talking about the move & all, but putting cousins, food and caffeinated drinks together helps loosen tongues.

“Whatever reason she has, Randi, it’s for your own good.  Aunt Lina has lived long enough to know when something’s up.  And she wouldn’t be moving from here without a good reason,” Ronnie said around a mouthful of pancakes and syrup. “You know that you’ve been her main concern ever since you were a baby -- she’s not doing this on a whim.”

“But that’s just it!  We usually discuss things -- I’ve had a say in things ever since I could voice an opinion.”

Lizzie snorted, and Ron shook his head.

“She lets you think you have input.  Aunt Lina is a strong woman, and she tends to do things her way.  The cousins in Maine say she moved you down here to have full control of how you’re raised,” Lizzie explained, as she started to pour more batter on the griddle.

Suddenly I was a little uncomfortable.  I love my cousins very much, but it had been drilled into my head never to let anyone know our secret.  But Lizzie’s version of things wasn’t fair to Aunt Lina.  They only knew a part of the story…

As I thought about this unfairness, I noticed a whole silent conversation going on between my older cousins.  Raised eyebrows, a shrug, a tilted head, a smile and a wink….it all meant something unvoiced.  I was just about to say something when Ronnie spoke first.

“I think it’s time that you know something, Randi.  Liz and I know about you.  We’ve known for years what you are, and what you can do.”

My mouth must have hung down to my belly, I was so shocked.  How could they know?

“You were a toddler when you moved here, and a bunch of the aunts, uncles and cousins had come out to help Aunt Lina get settled in.  The three of us were playing, and suddenly we realized that weren’t the youngest anymore -- you were.  So we were ordering you around, making you follow us around, just like the bigger kids did to us.  We made you climb a rock, and you were getting tired.  You fell, and suddenly, there was a cub where you had been.  The cub was spitting mad-- furious.  It was tangled in your clothes. Then it looked at Lizzie and me, and that cub became you.  Crying. So we that you were a shifter.  And we knew that you were to be protected at all costs, and should never be betrayed.”

“We never told anyone else that we knew you were a cougar.  We just fixed you up, and carried you back home.  It was your secret that started a relationship between us,” explained Lizzie as she slid another platter of pancakes onto the table.   Ron forked a few onto his plate, and she hugged him.  He rolled his eyes.

“It’s really her cooking, but let Lizzie think what she wants,” Ronnie mock-whispered with a wink, stuffing another fork-full of syrup drenched pancake in his mouth.  Lizzie pretended to hit him with the pancake flipper, and he pretended to be dazed.  I giggled.  They had been together ever since I could remember -- everyone expected them to get married after Ron finished college.

So… my big secret wasn’t such a secret after all.  But did they know about Aunt Lina? Probably not. 

“I heard you go outside last night,” said Lizzie.  “I don’t blame you -- I would have, if I were you.  What’s it like, being able to do that?  It didn’t seem to hurt you, when you shifted as a child that day.  I’ve always wanted to ask you -- does it hurt?  Do you realize you are -- who you are, or do you lose yourself over to the cat?  I’ve always wanted to ask you…..”

“Shifting is like going through a door to another place, but it’s a place inside of me.  I still know I’m me, and I know I’m cat.  Both at the same time.  Always.  When I shift, I see things as a cat does, and sense them that way, too.  I feel things through my whiskers.  Scents are so intense….I can’t really describe it in words.  It’s so wonderful.  That’s why I can’t imagine why Aunt Lina’s doing this to us.  How can we -- I mean, how can I shift anymore in a town? All I can think of is nosy neighbors and house after house of people and pets.  Why would she choose that? She loves it here.  Her art is inspired by these woods.  There’s got to be more to this than she’s letting on,” I said with a sigh.

“Has she been acting any different?” asked Ron.

“Well…she’s been funny ever since that news story about that cougar in Connecticut about the cougar hit by a car. It was thought to be a pet or something, but they cut it up & tested its tissue & it was supposedly from North Dakota.  She was distracted and snappish for a few days after that. ”

“So this is probably a reaction to that.”

“I wonder if it was just a cat,” said Ron thoughtfully, brushing a stray lock of hair aside as he leaned back in his chair.  “What if it was another shifter?  And what if the government knows that?  They’re gonna be watching us Natives, just like they’re watching the Muslims.  And a homeschooled girl living with her aunt off the rez….I guess there’s a reason to run to the ‘burbs right there.”

Upstairs the floor creaked.  Aunt Lina was up!  Lizzie put a finger to her lips, went over to the back staircase, and called up to Aunt Lina.

“Do you want pancakes?”

The door of the big bedroom over the kitchen opened, and a sleepy voice called down appreciatively “Ooh, yes!  I smell coffee, too.  I’ll be down in a few minutes.

That put an end to our conversation.  By the afternoon, both Ronnie and Liz were gone – Ron was heading west to college, and Liz was heading north before the predicted hurricane hit.

The weather was reflecting my life. Earthquake = upheaval.  Hurricane = mess.  I hope I can actually finish this and post it before the storm, but I also have to help Aunt Lina make sure everything’s secure.  There’s gonna be a lot of rain, and the creek could overflow and make a mess for us…

Until my next post…

Randi