This story is the reason I was prompted to register on this website - I've wanted to share this continual experience with my friends and family, but the teasing would be ceaseless - they refer to me as the "silly hippie" and would chalk it up to my adamant belief in energies and write it off as more of my "hippie garbage." Well, it's not. And I'm so tickled to finally be able to share!
In January of 2012, I moved back to Western New York from Boston. It was an unusually warm winter, especially for the Snow Belt, and so this move wound up being the smoothest, most pleasant, easy move I have ever had. The apartment is a nice one bedroom in the heart of the Park Ave district, where most of the houses were built in the mid-to-late 1800's. There are two doors to the outside, one bedroom, a small kitchen, a full bath, a small "studio" space, and a very large living room - and two huge walk in closets. The house is a typical Victorian, making use of all the nooks and crannies, and replete with original leaded windows in the living room. I have a six year old cat, Jezz, whom I bottle-fed when she was a tiny kitten and as a result, she is my super-best-bud. She plays a huge role in this tale.
I'm the sort of person that needs things "just so" in my home, and I was also anxious to create a familiar atmosphere for my cat. I figured it would be less stressful to come into a new atmosphere with "her things" laid out proper, rather than to have me blundering about putting things in order and making a racket. So, after my helpers and I got all my things inside, I was left alone to unpack with a mighty gusto. My boxes were hastily packed from when I left Massachusetts so my undies were with my spoons and my jewelry was with my soap, etc. As a result, there was a lot of scratching of the head, trying to remember where I put things. I settled my oil paints into their "place", and had paused to recall which box held my paint brushes when, a split second later, I heard a box shift and tumble in the kitchen. My helpers and I had been careful not to place boxes in a way they would be prone to tipping, and anyway, the sound was too soft for a fall. My immediate thought was "Ugh! Rats!" But as I rushed into the kitchen, I couldn't believe it!
A box lay towards the middle of the kitchen floor, well away from the other boxes, and its contents were poking out - old stuffed animals (yes, a 26-year-old still needs her binkies), wool socks, and my paint brushes and pallets! I couldn't believe it. The sound the box had made wasn't a crash, it was kind of a gentle tipping sound - like someone had lifted the box, sat it on the floor, and then carefully turned it onto its side hard enough to make some contents tumble out, but still gentle enough that my glass pallets were all intact. I was stunned but uttered a meek "Thank you..." picked up the box, and went about my unpacking, turning the music up a little bit louder, and paying more attention to my atmosphere. Like I said, I'm a huge believer in energy, and I thank the Universe frequently for little uncanny occurrences, but I hadn't had anything quite so uncanny happen before. The atmosphere felt neutral, if not very quiet, peaceable, and calm. I continued to get my apartment settled without any further incident, working well into the morning. This was Monday.
By Tuesday dinner time, my apartment was set up, everything was put away, cleaned, boxes were taken to recycling, etc. After meeting with my landlord to go over the damages I had noticed during the move-in process (including - important - the "arm" on the storm door), I went for dinner at my parents' and to pick up Miss Jezz. My parents hooked me up with some leftovers (by leftovers, I mean they sent me home with two tote bags full of food), and so when I went back to my apartment, I had to make two trips for the food and the kitty. I first brought in the food, and left the heavy wooden door open on my way back out to gather kitty, letting the storm door close behind me. I heard and saw the storm door clatter shut as I walked down the porch back to my car - it is not a quiet door, as the "arm" is broken, so its natural tendency is to slam.
I gathered my kitty and other miscellaneous things (my hands were full), and came back up the porch - the storm door was wide open, as if someone were holding it for me. It wasn't windy at ALL that day - it was actually warm, overcast, and a little drizzly, but absolutely not a single breath of wind! I was so shocked that I almost dropped the cat carrier. I felt Jezz shift in her carrier, when she usually sits very still in her carrier and watches the activity outside. I heard her sniffing the air frantically, but no hisses and no growls which she will usually omit if she doesn't like something. She then started to purr, which was even MORE bizarre, but I took it as a good sign. I passed through the open doorway and said "Thank you" again to my invisible helper, shut the wooden door, and went about the task of introducing kitty to her new home. I did not hear the storm door close, but when I peeked outside later on, it was shut again.
Nothing too spectacular or out-of-this-world has happened since those two incidents, except that Jezz developed the habit of sitting in the doorway to the living room and staring at something in the corner by the front door (which I don't use). She will sit in the doorway for extended periods of time, swishing her tail, seeming to watch something that intrigues her - not even my cooking something delicious and cat-friendly will attract her attention. She's THAT mesmerized. I have gone over to ask her what's up, and she'll look up at me, softly "Mreow", and then go back staring. Not typical behavior for a kitty that is both vocal and rambunctious. When I spend time in the living room, Jezz will "sausage" herself plop in the middle of the floor and purr like a maniac - regardless of whether any person is near her. She also will not go beyond the doorway to this room without me.
In addition to kitty falling in love with the living room doorway, things will go missing and show up in unlikely places. I run a jewelry/craft business, and a lot of time when I'm working late into the night, kitty will come for attention. I'll stop what I'm doing, lay down my tools, and play with her for a little bit. Once she has had her fill and gone off in pursuit of her kitty mischief, I will turn back to my task only to discover my pliers, wire cutters, scissors, etc are missing! It will always be a tool that I need in order to finish whatever piece I'm working on. Sometimes, it will be the unfinished item itself. I have learned to simply tidy up the "studio" and settle in for sleep because I never find the missing item that evening. It appears the next morning, or a few days later, in obscure spots - on the back of the toilet, for example; or inside the window - you know, between the screen and the glass. I've found my car keys in my bed - tucked underneath a pillow. I'm messy, but I am not THAT messy!
Whatever it is, I think it's playful and helpful at the same time. I have never felt like I couldn't, or shouldn't, be in my apartment and I've never felt like Miss Jezz isn't safe. I burn sage and dragons blood, practice yoga, have a good understanding of stones and crystals, and am an all around energy-oriented woman. I believe the energy we exude is the type of energy we will attract; I believe that whatever is in my apartment sensed my nature when I was moving in, and decided to be helpful. I think if it were ill-intending, Jezz would sense so and definitely let me know. Thank you for taking the time to read, and I appreciate any input that can be given.