All three cats gang up on Luna. Tigger leads the Nasty Gang. They corner her, and then Tigger swats her, hard. She slinks, and tries to get away. Tigger swats her again. Pixie snarls and hisses. Toby appears to just watch. Luna cries. Of course, I know nothing until I hear this pathetic howling/yelping, and I run to the rescue. Tigger swaggers off, and Pixie shape-shifts into the shadows. Toby watches, big blue eyes watching.
There must be a deeper message here. At any given moment I can be melancholy about my brood growing up and being adults with spouses, work and children, soccer, school, commutes and all of it. I am also aware of this exalted place of freedom. I can choose to "not worry" a little easier than when the girls were teens, or the boys were teens. My creative life can have my full attention.
Part of the message is this: the animals choose us. Perhaps we never know the whole story, the why of it. The message is in the choice, the choosing. Who am I in this moment?
Oh, that may be the whole message! Ahh! Thank you!