It has been a quarter century since his passing, and I still dream about Deaken, my “serval son.”
September 11th this year will mark the 25th anniversary of Deaken’s death.
So I guess it’s only natural that last night (or this morning), I had an initially disturbing dream about having forgotten to check in on him for what felt like months.
I was revisiting my condo in North Hollywood in this dream (the last place where Deaken and I lived before his passing) and drove out of there before remembering that I hadn’t checked in on him. In this dream (although not in real life), Deaken was sequestered in a kind of garage on the premises (he was in my condo in real life with me) and I panicked, thinking I hadn’t checked on him since — I simply couldn’t recall the last time! So, I turned the car around, feeling major trepidation, thinking I’d probably find him without food and water and living in filth… or dead from my neglect! (My serval cat was what others might call spoiled rotten: I call it dearly loved and conscientiously maintained. His facility and my condo were pristine always and inspected at least twice a year by professionals, always receiving 100% ratings.)
As I opened the garage door, I heard him chirping to me, so I knew he was all right. But it was as black as the inside of a cow in there and I couldn’t see him.
At that point my mind asked me, “But… I thought Deaken died… Didn’t he die a long time ago?”
I delved back into my memory, trying to recall his passing. The question didn’t resolve immediately. And then I remembered. “So, that’s why I could hear him but not see him!” I realized, even as I was still dreaming. My “neglect” was explained, as was the reason my neglect hadn’t killed him.
Turns out my serval son is immortal. As long as I live, so will he… in my heart.
In other dreams throughout the year, I see him. I can run my fingers through his fur again, hear his purr, and feel his heartbeat.
Those are the best dreams.
My dreams of him are equal part lovely and unnerving. Sometimes I dream there’s a hole in his enclosure and he’s out and about, and I worry he will get hit or shot or that he will hurt someone and I’ll be in big trouble as a result.
Sharing my life with a so-called “wild cat” wasn’t a bed of roses. It required constant vigilance. I didn’t let very many people know I had him. In fact, I snuck him into the North Hollywood condo. Only the wildlife authorities knew of his presence. I was afraid the condo association would flip out if the people on its board knew. Only the maintenance man learned of his presence after the guy upstairs flooded my condo below, and he kept mum, and assured me that I was right to keep mum, too. (That story is detailed in my book Serval Son: Spots and Stripes Forever, as are many of my most vivid additional memories, both lovely and traumatic.)
Here are some of my favorite images of Deaken, from his infancy to age seventeen…
He was born on May 16, 1979
This image was taken in June 1979 while he was still grey and his ears had yet to unfurl…
Various images from our time in Eatonville, Washington (1979-1981)
Another Eatonville-era image
Image taken in Rio Linda/Sacramento circa 1981-1985 while I was working for the Animal Protection Institute of America
(API)
On the outdoor set of API’s The Ninth Crusade
Deaken and me at Tippi Hedren’s wonderful Shambala Preserve, where Deaken lived for fifteen months
while I sought out permanent work in Hollywood and a landlord who would allow a “wild cat” on his premises.
Me carrying Deaken off-premises at Shambala to go for a leash-less stroll on the less-wild side.
(He almost caught a grouse that day!)
This was Carolyn Kelley’s favorite photo of Deaken — she said she could FEEL his fur looking at this one!
She had it on the wall of her office, and shed a tear when we talked about him after his passing while looking at it.
Image of young Deaken in Eatonville. One of my all-time favorite images.
I could add a dozen more, but I’ll stop now… and just gaze for a while… and sigh….
I MISS YOU, BABY BOY!
Disclaimer: I do not advocate the keeping of wild animals as pets. I was trained to handle servals earlier in life and obtained all the required permits to have Deaken legally. It is a huge responsibility and undertaking.
If you’re even considering getting a wild animal as a pet, I beg you to read “Serval Son” first so you’ll have a better idea of what you’re getting into.
Fact: MOST wild pets are relinquished to sanctuaries (or confiscated by authorities, if they aren’t legally obtained) by the time they’re fully grown, and that isn’t fair to the animal, because it attaches to its owner at a very young age emotionally and separation is, and remains, traumatic for them. The fifteen months Deaken was at Shambala was hard on both of us, even though Shambala is a wonderful place. I was up there three days a week most weeks to reassure him he wasn’t separated from me forever.
