Althea: A Story of Love

by Philip Rastocny

  When Bengals got tired, he would just sit down on the trail meowing and refusing to move. With his tail twitching on the ground and his eyes trained on Althea, she would walk over, pick him up, and carry him inside her coat. Riding quietly with his head sticking out, he casually watched our unfolding adventure through half-closed eyes. These two were so cute to look at, with Bengals’ head peering out just below Althea’s neck.

  Our home in Colorado was perched on a glacier-carved mountainside at about ninety-eight hundred feet in elevation. Nestled in the tall trees, it was within easy walking distance of national forests, state parks, and a bird sanctuary. Access to the remote ends of these forests was only by foot; there were no fire roads or jeep trails anywhere around. We would regularly drive to the ridge of our mountain chain, park the car in the trees, and trek off into the wild. We often enjoyed day hikes on high mountain ridges or overnight trips dropping down into one of the sprawling green canyons.

  The bird sanctuary was especially nice with young aspen groves, trickling water streams, and abandoned mines dotting the steep terrain. One of our favorite meadows was miles from the main trails where we enjoyed simply stunning views of the western edge of Black Mountain.

  Steep vertical cliffs rose abruptly from this grassy meadow floor. This pink quartz cliff looked like it was carved by some great raptor’s claws gouging deep furrows from the ridge to the valley’s floor. As the sun moved through the sky, shadows floated across the rock faces continually changing their jagged appearance.

  This meadow ran southwest around the base of a larger domed hill on its way to a nearby stream. The stream gained speed as it passed by an abandoned silver mine. An old wooden corral flanked the side of a flume where men with dreams of wealth and leisure braved the wilds of the wilderness, trudged through waist-high snow, and endured the bitter high-altitude cold.

  We camped on a bluff a few hundred feet above this meadow that peered westward towards Saunton State Park and Lion’s Head peak. A dark gray granite slab rested atop this barren bluff bolstering a few sprigs of grass in its cracks and blue-gray moss along the edges. This slab jutted out over the cliff edge allowing our feet to swing freely in the air. On a clear day we could see all the way to Kenosha Pass in the Pike National forest some fifty miles away.

  One perfect fall day, we set up camp in a thin stand of young lodge-pole pines about forty feet from the edge of this cliff. The aspen trees were just starting to change to their glorious golden hues and a light nip was in the air that foretold the imminent arrival of deep winter snows. You could smell the dying leaves wafting through the thin dry air as gusty winds blew against your face.

  Excited by the moment, we grabbed our daypacks and decided to take our first hike down the side of the cliff, dropping into the meadow below. Of course Bengals wanted to go everywhere we went so Althea called to him, encouraging him on. He followed us down the winding path, bouncing off of boulders, and happily leaping from handhold to foothold.

  We spent the day wandering the meadow and exploring the area around the abandoned mine. We walked completely around the hill following the canyon floor as it ventured through short meadows and denser stand of trees. This was one of our longer hikes and we stopped regularly enjoying each magic moment. Hawks and eagles soared overhead with their eyes trained on Bengals probably thinking they had found an easy meal.

  Walking uphill, I saw Bengals dash into a patch of tall grass, his tail disappearing in an instant. We continued walking to the next clearing when we noticed Bengals was nowhere to be found. This was not unusual since he typically lingered, but then would quickly catch up loping along back to front.

  Althea called to him, “Bengals. Come here Bengals. Let’s go.” No sound could be heard from this typically vocal feline. “Bengals…Bengals…come along Bengals.” Althea continued trying to coax him back with her melodic voice.

  She continued calling to him and we started back down to where I saw him last. Bengals was a good cat but like all cats they are highly independent and if they are not ready to do something, there is little hope of convincing them otherwise. He sometimes liked to play hide and seek with us and would often take hours to tire. This time it was different and we both knew it. There was something wrong that we could sense from the stillness in the air.

  We trudged off through the tall grass in the general direction I saw him go. We searched and searched, called and called, but we heard and saw nothing. There were no tracks on the granite ground, no stones out of place, no parting of the tall grasses, and no fir snagged on a branch; there was just no trace of him was anywhere. We feared that he was lost.

  We searched, spiraling outwards from where we saw him last, and then split up trying to cover more ground. I climbed to the top of the hill and Althea searched the valley below. Our ears strained for any sound of him but our calls—bouncing randomly from the canyon walls—went unanswered. Minutes turned into hours and we became exhausted. I rejoined her in the valley below. The sun was going down and the shadows grew longer and longer in the narrow canyon. The moon was new and was getting very dark, so Althea called one last time.

  “Bengals. Come on Bengals. Let’s go home!” she said in a bouncing voice still trying to encourage him to join us.

  The colors of the leaves and grasses blended into a dark gray collage of shadows and lines. Our hearts began to panic since we had already overstayed our time on the trail and knew if he did not return to us soon we would be left with no choice but to leave him behind.

  We sat down in a clearing calling to him hoping he would just join us, but then we heard his faint cries somewhere over in the next canyon. He was lost walking further and further away from us and time had run out. Despite hearing our calls, he just couldn’t follow our voices to where we were. The echoes must have confused him. The light finally fading, we were heartbroken fearing now for his life.

  Colorado is home for many predators that use the cover of darkness to stalk small prey. Mountain lions, bobcats, and coyotes roamed the area freely foraging for food and Bengals would surely be a featured catch. Being a house cat, Bengals had limited survival skills and would not have the sense to hide until morning.

  His last, barely audible meow made our hearts sink as we gave up the search. We stayed much longer than we should have hoping he would return but the light was now completely gone and the stars were popping out. We still had an hour’s hike uphill back to camp with the most treacherous segment in the darkest part of the hike.

  Althea was tearful and our decision to leave was one of the hardest things we ever had to do. This cat was part of our family and leaving him behind was like cutting off one of my arms. My body trembled as we felt our way up the cliff and back to camp. I was thinking of what we could do tomorrow, but more on my mind was Bengal’s ability to safely survive the night.

  We made it back to camp and I made a small fire. Althea called to him from the bluff but no sound surfaced from the canyons below. In disbelief, we sat around the fire and talked about our search plan for the morning.

  “We’ll start at first light tomorrow and go to where we saw him last. I’ll take extra water and food so we can stay as long as we need to find him,” I said trying to raise Althea’s spirits. I felt so guilty and remorseful for having to leave Bengals behind. I just hoped he had the sense to stay where we last heard him and did not wander off further downhill. Althea’s tears fell freely from her face, weeping as she held her head in her hands. And then she suddenly stopped.

  “Phil,” she looked at me wiping her eyes. “Let’s try something. Do you remember me talking about a Shamanic journey?”

  “Yes I do,” I replied a little puzzled. Although Althea had some experience with this, I had none. “What are you suggesting?”

  “Two are needed for such a journey. One person stays by the fire as an anchor for the other who goes on a journey. I think we can do this to find Bengals and encourage him to return to us tonight. I know how to do this and I can talk you thro
ugh it, but I need to be the one who stays here as your anchor.”

  My head reeled as I realized what Althea proposed we do. I knew nothing about such a journey and I was nervous to say the least. People fear the unknown and this time I was beyond fear, I was really scared. Burning questions ran through my mind like What will this be like? Will it be safe? What will I see? Will I be able to come back?

  But one thing was certain: I felt incredibly guilty about leaving Bengals behind. He had never done anything like this before and I’m sure he was frightened and hungry. I could only hope that doing this would help him come back to us.

  I overcame my guilt and fear and I asked, “What do I do?”

  My face must have looked like I had seen a ghost and Althea took my hand saying, “Trust me. I’ll guide you through this. Just know you will find him once we begin and then convince him to come back to us. Tell him he has to go uphill.”

  Althea started with our drum, beating it steadily with focus and purpose of Bengal’s return in mind. She sang songs and chanted while dancing around our fire. I sat on the ground facing the fire and closed my eyes listening to her drumming feeling its beat pound against my chest. As I felt my own heart beat beneath my breast, the two soon synchronized and my mind began to drift into a state of intense meditation.

  “Listen to my voice and let yourself go deeper and deeper,” Althea said firmly but softly not breaking my now highly altered state. “Go into the earth through a hole you will see. I’ll guide you from there.”

  As I felt the blazing fire on my face and heard the sounds of the night in my ears, I surrendered to Althea’s voice trusting her completely. I gradually drifted off into a deep trance finding myself descending into the ground beneath my feet through a hole I spotted just off to my right. Everything got very black and I somehow started to drift through the dirt. I was intrigued. I saw rocks, roots, sand pockets, mud, and shiny stones looking like gray images in a black-and-white photograph. In the distance I heard Althea faintly say, “Look for Bengals,” and I started to scan my surroundings.

  I passed the mine in the valley below and saw a section caved in. Two ghostly-shaped men were trapped down there, one pinned under a fallen timber and another trying to free the trapped one. They both looked at me as I drifted by, but I did nothing to help. I was on a mission and didn’t have time to get side tracked.

  I traveled a bit further towards the spot where we last saw Bengals. I noticed deep roots dangling from massive trees above and I looked up. I saw pinholes in the blackness above me and moved towards them, curious about this source of light. As I approached, I realized they were worm holes through which I could see the glow of the stars above. I was attracted to one particular hole and drifted toward its edge, peering out like a prairie dog.

  I saw a bunch of long hair directly overhead; it was Bengals’ fir under his chin. I moved above ground. Just off to my right I saw his paws curled under his chest. I backed up a bit and Bengals’ face came into full view. “Bengals!” I screamed, “Bengals, you’re alright!”

  I heard Althea’s voice faintly above my head saying something like, “Tell him to come home. Tell him he has to climb!”

  “Bengals, you have to listen to me…” I said to this docile creature lying comfortably on the ground seemingly unaware of my presence. “…Bengals, you have to climb. Climb Bengals, climb, and come back to us. Come back to our camp. Do this now. Climb, Bengals, climb!”

  Just then my attention returned to camp where Althea was still dancing around me and the fire. She was beating her drum in the same steady rhythmic manner as I remembered when we began this ceremony. I shuddered and shook my head in disbelief of what I had just experienced and Althea slowed the drumming, and then beat it randomly to finish.

  She yelled into the night air “Eee-hah!” and then screeched like an eagle after the last beat of her drum. “What did you see?” she inquired now facing me directly holding my shoulders with her hands.

  I stroked my forehead with my hand hearing the fire snapping in my ears and feeling like I had abruptly exited a fast moving train. It was like I had not come to a complete stop although my feet were firmly planted on the ground.

  “I traveled underground…” I began recalling the events, “…and drifted about in the darkness. I saw the mine we visited earlier today and saw two men trapped underground.”

  “Did they say anything?”

  “No, they just looked at me and I kept going. I saw light coming from above and I came out a worm hole right below Bengal’s neck. I told him to climb and to come home.”

  “Well, that’s all we can do tonight. We have to turn this over now to the powers of the universe and look for him again tomorrow.” Althea sighed putting her drum into the tent to protect it from the dew.

  We were both sad but relieved we had made this spiritual connection with our cat. I started poking a stick into the fire watching the coals glow in the evening’s light wind. The snapping of the burning wood echoed in the valley below and the night grew colder, damper, and calmer.

  We were just getting ready to go to bed. I went to get some water to put out the fire while Althea gathered up the food, put it into a bag, and hoisted it into a tree. I was on my knees with my back to Althea fiddling with the water when she screamed out, “Bengals!” I spun around to see Althea running towards our small golden tabby who had wandered up the cliff on the path we took earlier that day. He was strutting straight towards Althea who opened her arms welcoming him to her breast. “Bengals, we were so worried about you,” she said as she trotted off towards the tent. She unzipped the screen and took him inside closing the zipper quickly behind them. “Bengals, you need to come when we call, but I am so glad that you came back.”

  Her words of joy lingered long in the air and peace returned to our troubled family. I ran over to the screen and saw Althea cuddling him in her arms, her head down snuggling against his. Bengals was purring, rubbing his face against Althea’s. He had heard me and he listened. He climbed uphill against all of his conditioning and found our camp from wherever he was lost. He was safe. He was home.

  Crawling out of my car before sunrise, the aches gifted to me that night from my undersized sleeping arrangement stayed with me most of the morning. After a good stretch, I wandered around the parking lot feeling the fresh dew on my face and found my way to the ambulance entrance. At six A.M., I was in the coffee shop and spent a while in the PC room writing, yawning, and contemplating.

  With my head focused on the tasks for today, I recalled the events of yesterday getting things in order and trying to wake up. My primary concern was with her breathing properly. But I also recalled Althea’s wishes not to use extraordinary life saving measures to sustain her life. How should I balance this and not endanger her life? I asked myself. Not knowing the answer to this tricky question, I trusted I would keep her wishes in mind and make the correct choice at that the time. Wandering off down the hall, I pressed the button on the elevators to the ICU.

  With my prompt arrival at the end of shift change, I cradled my thumb in her eagerly awaiting hand. Exhausted from the restless night, I closed my eyes and fell asleep. About an hour later, she stirred and woke me up. In a daze, I gave her the same homeopathic remedy I used to reduce the swelling in my brain from my motorcycle accident—the first of many doses today. She took it without opening her eyes and fell quickly back to sleep barely aware of my presence. She may have thought I was a night nurse with her early medication and just ignored whoever was there. Awake and unable to get back to sleep, I started massaging her arms.

  As I grabbed her right leg, she awoke. “Good morning Althea! How are you today?” I asked. Of course she did not respond with her voice but her eyes squinted open and she smiled kindly back at me. Walking around to her right side, I put my thumb back into her hand and reviewed yesterday’s ordeal with her breathing tube and my exhausting sleep in the car overnight. She just squeezed my thumb randomly and before long she was sound asleep again
. She seems to be more tired today than any other so far.

  I let her sleep for another ten or fifteen minutes and then woke her to ask her an important question. “Althea, they want to help you breathe by doing a tracheotomy. Do you understand?”

  Althea squeezed my thumb once.

  Although there wasn’t much I could give Althea to help her recover, I could give her respect. Asking her opinion on this matter showed her that I valued and respected her despite her limitations.

  “Do you want to wait one more day and see if you can cough up your phlegm by yourself?”

  She squeezed my thumb, squinted her eyes, and peered into mine. Smiling at me, she seemed to thank me for consulting with her. I respected her and wanted to keep her involved in the decisions of her recovery. When we lost our cat Bengals, I trusted Althea to take me on a Shamanic journey and bring me safely back. In turn, she trusts me to make the right choices for her when she cannot.