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Brutal Fight over Shaved Cats...

Boudika lost her collar last night, while she was out romping about in the windstorm. This morning, when the kitties came in for breakfast, I noticed it was missing and quickly threw on a sweatshirt and some boots to go for a quick search. It was fruitless but I decided not to stress over it. I returned inside and went right back to sleep.
In the dream, I was napping on a cot out in the carport. My neighbors were out and about and I was drifting in and out of sleepiness. Eventually I realized real rest was hopeless out here, and returned inside. On the front stoop was the missing collar and I was super pleased to see it. I supposed that one of the neighbors had found it and, knowing it belonged to our cat, dropped it off. I went to find Bou to put her collar back on and instead found a horrible scene.
I found Bisou first. She was contorted and looked incredibly discomfited. She had a seam of bare skin showing, running all the way down her side and I immediately thought it was a gash. But there was no blood. I managed to wrestle her down so I could examine her and found that someone had taken hair clippers to her and shaved a swath all the way down to her skin. Thankfully there were no cuts or wounds, but she was certainly perturbed by the feeling of it. I was mortified.
Boudika came into the room and she too seemed to have discomfort. She was frightened and lackadaisical, choosing to lie on the floor in the most remote corner behind the couch. I accessed her and pulled her up, to find that she too had been partially shaved. Her entire neck, down her shoulders was bare. I wept when I saw the bare skin. It was irritated and bleeding in some spots, and small droplets of water were appearing here and there, which I assumed to be sweat glands. (Do cats sweat?)
Immediately, I went to the window to survey the scene. I knew the perpetrator couldn't be far and I was determined to find the guilty party. From the window, I could see several groups of neighbors, some coming and going, some hanging out. I identified one particular group of youngsters and headed outside to confront them. When I walked up, huffing and puffing, they seemed scared but had no idea what I was ranting about. I would have continued to badger them, had another trio of people about my age not piped up. It was a girl and two guys and they snickered when I confronted the younger kids. I asked them what was funny and they played it off like they were enjoying the show of my unraveling.
I confronted them about assaulting neighbor's pets and they started getting into the semantics of what assault really was. They had guilty written all over them. I began raising my voice, too pissed off to temper myself.
There is a lapse in the sequence of events here, but then I remember barging into their apartment (one over and behind mine). They were in tow, shouting that I had no right. I shouted right back and immediately unearthed an electric hair-clipper from a box in the kitchen. It had orange and brown hairs on it and was all the evidence I needed.
We went back out into the alley and a shouting match ensued. My argument was plain - they had wronged me and my cats. Their argument was far more convoluted, though no less passionately delivered. They wanted to claim that the cats deserved it for always getting into their house and eating their food. I screamed that if that were the case, they should have come and told me - I would have bought them a window screen. Their arguments were thin and I got sick of them not apologizing.
In no time, the scene erupted into violence. I was swinging and smashing and clawing at their faces, furious. They fought back but I was just that mush stronger than they and only my blows seemed to land.
Finally, I broke from the group and took my phone up to my carport and dialed 911. My father answered, "911, what is your emergency." I was speechless, trying to figure out what was going on. He laughed on the other end of the line. "Isn't that a weird thing to hear when you're calling someone up?" "Dad, I actually was trying to call 911." "Oh, did we get our lines crossed? How strange!" Then he went on to babble about useless shit. The perps were down in their apartment, assumedly erasing the evidence. I needed to act fast. "Dad, I need to hang up, I'll call you later, I really need to call the police right now." He was understanding but not fast enough to act. I shouted it once more and finally he hung up. I dialed 911 again. This time there was a strange noise and then some elevator music. I couldn't tell if I was on hold but it didn't seem likely that I'd reached the right number. The perps were returning to the carport, wanting blood.
I dialed one more time and this time the operator did pick up. As I explained my situation, we were cut off and I decided I needed to take matters into my own hands. I threw down the phone and just attacked with all the rage that was roiling inside of me. I went for the girl first. She was easy. I jumped at her and smashed her head down, knocking her out. The guys were on me and I guess I was channeling some weird MMA stuff, cause I was standing my ground and using their own forces to knock them off balance. I was pretty impressed with myself. My hand found a bottle and I used it to smash one of them in the face. It was a thick bottle and when it broke, it lacerated the guy's face really bad. Suddenly everything changed.
Someone was helping him. I don't know where the other guy went, but I ran and grabbed a huge bundle of gauze. I came back to the guy, who was now on the ground, in someone's arms. I used the gauze to carefully wrap his head and face to help the bleeding until medics could arrive.
Typically, in these horrifically violent dreams that I have now and again, my violence is never sated. Usually, I fight so ferociously, I wake up tense - but I wake up before I feel the satisfaction of revenge. This one was different. I definitely felt it this time. I'd fucked this kid up. It felt like I got what I needed out of the situation.
I forced myself to wake up because it was such an awful dream and awful feeling.
Both my kitties were curled up at my feet, snoozing away, unharmed and safe.
I don't quite know what this dream was representing.

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