SPIRITUAL LESSONS FROM A DYING CAT

My cat, Cathy, has become one of the most powerful spiritual teachers I have ever known. This article will briefly detail her history, the events that lead to her death, the conclusion of her life, and -- in detail -- what she taught me.

She was a little tiny kitten when I got her. She was weaned too early, and like many cats who are weaned too young, became extraordinarily attached to me. She grew rapidly, becoming a flush of pure black fur, a flower of a cat who bloomed pure beauty. She loved my company above all else, following me into any given room just to be with me. She seemed to be indifferent to, or actively hate, most everyone else. As my cats always do, she named herself with her behavior. Disliking most everyone else, she named herself CAT Hates You. CAT-H-Y. CATHY.

There came a time, four years into our cat-human relationship, when I needed to go somewhere to get medical treatment. I would be gone for a while, so I put her with a cat boarder. She didn't take well to being away from me, or her familiar surroundings, and stopped eating. For an obese cat (which she became) this could be fatal, I discovered later. An obese cat who stops eating will process thier fat, but the liver of a cat is ill-designed for this, and Cathy quickly developed Hepatic Lipidosis (fatty-liver disease).

When I heard of her situation, I quickly returned, coming to the veterinarians very regularly to spend as many hours as I could with her. Several clinic technicians remarked that they had seen a lot of 'patients' and a lot of owners, and only rarely did someone come in as often and stay as long, and they assured me that she was loved more in these four years than many animals were in a lifetime. Cathy clearly loved my company, expressing it with excitement at my arrival and joy at my presence. She would vocalize the minute I came into view, and she would stand to greet me. When I had her in my lap, she would knead on my shirt and arm, and butt my arm with copious head butting.

But she looked horribly jaundiced. The liver was not working well. For the next week, I asked the veterinarian to aggressively treat Cathy, even placing a feeding tube in her esophagus when she stopped voluntarily eating. She had a few good days, and we spent so much great high-quality time together. My hopes soared! Perhaps this was reversible. The more-experienced animal doctors warned me that her chances were still indeterminate, but I clung to hope like a rescue rope in a cold ocean.

There was a day when she turned for the worse again, and the improving liver-related blood work got worse. I asked the veterinarians what they could do? "Spare no expense," I said, "try to save my little girl." They did as I asked. It was to no avail. Her decline was precipitous and alarming. I continued to visit, well-aware of her impending death, but still hopeful for a miracle. Between sobs, I spent as much quality time with her as humanly possible. On the last day, she was so miserable, and her liver-related blood work was so bad, it became clear that I should release her from almost-guaranteed horrific suffering and eventual death.

We brought her to the room where I first saw her at the hospital -- a warm, friendly room. I asked for a reclining chair so she could be on my chest, which was her favorite place to be in the entire world. Weeping with intense sadness, I said my goodbyes and let her know where she was going. She was so very miserable, I could see it in her eyes. I put her back on my chest, and told the doctor to introduce the euthanasia drug.

When the drug hit her, she swiveled her head suddenly, and gazed at me for a long second that seemed like eternity. This look utterly haunted me for a while after. In her eyes, I saw two things: surprise, and 'Daddy, comfort me.' At the time, I had no response, mental or verbal. In retrospect, my only response was, "I'm giving you comfort, honey. I'm giving it to you." Then she laid down and died, on the chest of her loving owner and best friend.

After she passed, my reaction took me completely by surprise. I stopped crying completely. The veterinary team asked if I wanted to spend time with the body, but the idea repulsed me. "This is not Cathy," I said, "Cathy is gone. Get it off me!" They did. I walked outside, and felt as if someone had hit me in the head with a ball-peen hammer. I felt completely devoid of emotion, stunned, somewhat confused. It scared me. What was happening to my emotions?

I was surrounded that day and the rest of the night with people who loved me. One of them advised me that the numbness I experienced was very normal, and that it was called 'emotional shock'. He mentioned, with some sincerity, that the emotions would return, and in force.

They did. The next day, I finally had time to be completely alone. Without warning, I found myself flooded with tears and crying in deep, body-wracking, soul-wrenching sobs. At some point, after the crying subsided, something very odd happened. I established contact with a power greater than myself -- call it Spirit, God, or the universe, whatever power you wish to call it -- and I got some amazing answers for the many questions I had. These are too personal to share with the public, but I have told my friends. Clearly Cathy had a purpose. It was clear I got what so few of us get -- answers for some hard questions. I became aware of what her purpose was, in my life. She was a very special kitty . Most of us do not get to know the 'whys' of life, and especially death. I am remarkably lucky, or remarkably blessed. There have been many wonderful spiritual lessons I was shown, through her life and her death.

I carried so much guilt and shame. I started engaging in the "What If" game. What if I had done something different? The answer was clear, and was told to me by a Higher Power -- not in words, but in feelings: She was intended to die, at this precise time, to reveal to me some important and unshakable truths. "What if" was useless. There was nothing I could have done that would have prevented her death. No matter which way I turned, and no matter how hard I struggled to save her, she was supposed to die now.

The guilt and shame lessened greatly, and I began discovering the truths that have been revealed to me.

One of them was that there was the tiniest bit of joy imbedded in grieving. I felt a small amount of joy, because I was alive, and I was able to feel grief at all. I loved her -- and she, me -- and that is why I grieved. There is joy in that love, and there is joy in being able to feel, especially after my brush with numbness when I was in emotional shock.

Another thing that became apparent was that I was there for her, in every way I could be. Some of us have the opportunity -- nay, privilege -- of being with our pet while they are dying, and others of us do not. But for all of us, if we love our pet as much as I did, we did all we were given the chance to do.

I learned from experiencing four years with Cathy that I am capable of giving, and receiving, unconditional love. This revelation surprised me.

I learned to be present in the moment. At one time when she was a little better, when she was on my chest purring, I let go of the possible future and outcome, and I stepped out any regrets about the past -- I was just with her. Simply with her. I felt her, warm, on my chest, rumbling with the loving purr, and I thought, "This is so nice. This feels good." That moment is eternal. I shall always keep it with me. It informs me that it is so important to be present and in the moment with our pets, and our loved ones, right now. The moments we make become like concrete, solidified in our souls, so that they may be treasured and kept for all eternity. It seems that if we are present in the moment, we might actually be able to live a million lifetimes, as each moment becomes pure and timeless.

I discovered the purpose of money, used to treat my little girl and make her as comfortable as possible. I used to think so wrongly about it. Money was a scorecard, and a way to acquire the shallow, the ultimately meaningless: The cool car, the nice house, the good-looking woman. I discovered that money had one fundamental purpose: To care for those you love. Any other use was an off-brand use.

I learned to listen to the voice of my Higher Power, who I call 'God'. I was repeatedly given impressions from this Power, impressions that were borne out as truth, in the fullness of time.

I found that the most important thing to do immediately upon grieving was to be surrounded by people who love me. I also found that it was important, after the initial shock subsided, to be alone, to grieve in earnest.

And finally, I learned the importance of memorializing the ones you love who depart. I memorialize her in many ways: How I live my life, the love I share with others, even this very article -- these are all memorials. I shall also create a loving headstone and place her remains in a tranquil place.

There have been many miracles surrounding this -- serendipitous events, large and small that I will not share here. They show me that my conclusions are sound and that my direction is good.

Please know one thing unconditionally: I understand what people who lose pets experience. It is my fondest hope that someone reading this gets something they need, and can find from it, some solace and some comfort.

"We are so loved and treasured by God."

Have you always really known that, or is this one of the things you learned through this experience?

I've suspected it all my life, but the events over my life have confirmed my suspicions.

I'm 56, and have struggled with that all my life. I keep trying to comprehend it in rational terms.

That won't work. This is not a 'brain thing'. Brains are wonderful problem-solving tools, but this is an emotional 'heart' thing.

Laz, sincere love shown gives the return of sincere love.

We have a black male cat. His name is Angus, but he prefers King Boo. Around the other cats, the dogs, and , yes, people..... that is what he things he is...King.

A couple of nights ago my daughter was quietly crying because of some stress she is having. Boo gently jumps on her lap and proceeds to lick her forehead...many times.

Cathy loved you because you gave her love.

I believe pets are "given" to us for a reason and He knows why. It's up to us humans to learn why He did.

Hugs for you my FRiend. Sorry for your loss.

Excellent job, Laz! Our pets really do make us better people. We picked up Musket’s ashes on Saturday. I cried all the way home. A much bigger box than his buddy’s, Kenny. Both of their boxes are under our bed. I hope with time that the good memories are the only memories we can remember of them. That is what I am struggling with right now... the bad ones. Love and hugs to you... Mom

p.s. Cathy was a beautiful girl. Her life was meaningful and good because of you. Your life is meaningful and good because of her. That’s how I choose to look at our human bonding with our pet buddies.

The same week that my father died almost 6 years ago, I had to help my beloved 19 year old Bubba to the Rainbow Bridge. One of the worst weeks of my life. I will be forever grateful to God that I didn’t have to make that last trip to the vet the same day I buried Dad.

My mother passed away earlier this month and my beloved Lucy is not going to me with me much longer. I know when I make that last trip to the vet, I will be a puddle of tears. Lucy has been my beloved friend for 19 years. I think she’s staying for a little while longer because she knows I’m grieving. She sits next to me and just purrs and we are happy together.

Thank you for sharing your story. You have been a blessing.

“A chest cat for every one!” That was my Middle East peace solution. (Ha!)

And like you, I was very fortunate to have the purring chest cat experience. None of my other cats are/were as special, even though each one shows their ‘love’ (appreciation) in a different way.

I sincerely hope that for some one capable of so much love to give can find in his heart some other deserving cat(s) to share and cherish. Give some other cat(s) a chance, after some appropriate time of grieving.

“I learned to be present in the moment. At one time when she was a little better, when she was on my chest purring, I let go of the possible future and outcome, and I stepped out any regrets about the past — I was just with her. Simply with her. I felt her, warm, on my chest, rumbling with the loving purr, and I thought, “This is so nice. This feels good.” That moment is eternal. I shall always keep it with me. It informs me that it is so important to be present and in the moment with our pets, and our loved ones, right now. The moments we make become like concrete, solidified in our souls, so that they may be treasured and kept for all eternity. It seems that if we are present in the moment, we might actually be able to live a million lifetimes, as each moment becomes pure and timeless.”

This passage just did me in. It is so very rich with truth and I for one am so grateful I am on your list and had the opportunity to read it and re-read it.

So very sorry for your loss and for the roller coaster. It is just amazing the result was this lovely memorial to your beloved Cathy.

Thank you for taking the time to write this and share it.
Your words are timely and I thank you for them.

My ‘inherited’ kitty, Molly, will be the beneficiary of your thoughtful reminders.

Laz,

Thank you so much for sharing the story and picture of your beloved kitty. You have my deepest sympathy for her loss, and congratulations that you have determined the elements of God’s will in loving her and losing her.

I read your story last night, but was too emotional to comment at that time. We reluctantly acquired a cat in March. I have been totally gobsmacked over the hold our Bobber now has on my heart. We also have recently lost my 25 year old nephew, and he has not been found yet, so working through the combination of grief and acceptance are moment by moment challenges, and I have been trying to work out the ability to continue noticing beauty, wonder, and all the gifts available to us in this wonderland of real life.

Here’s hoping your own health situation is improving. Thank you again for sharing your story.

I understand what people who lose pets experience. It is my fondest hope that someone reading this gets something they need, and can find from it, some solace and some comfort.

What an absolutely gorgeous Cathy-kitty. Thank you for your post -- I am so very sorry for your loss.

My beloved 18 1/2 year old Carmen who went to the Rainbow Bridge this last Friday. I am just about too distraught to function. I did receive a "God winks" just minutes before I had to make the final call to the vet, so I know all of our formerly-departed were calling Carmen home.

Dear Laz, I am so sorry for the loss of your dear kitty cat.
I am relieved to read your insights into where our beloved pet’s spirits go. I lost my horse Jack 4 months ago. He had a sudden problem and had to be euthanized the morning I found him unable to rise in his stall. He was with me for over 10 years. He was about 28 years old. I always said it was “til death do us part” with Jack. As he took his last giant breath I told him I kept my promise to be with him until one of us died.

From the first day he left this world, I have found heart shaped rocks on his grave as I slowly worked at leveling the work the backhoe did in March. I now have a pile of them, different colors and degrees of abstraction from a perfect heart shape. They are now his grave marker. I seeded grass over the grave and have been watering it daily. I have gotten another horse, and still have Jack’s horse companion too. The magic is gone. It left with Jack. The separation is difficult. I carried a lock of his mane hair with me in my shirt pocket for a week after he died just to have some part of him close to me. Here it is 4 months later and just telling you of this has me all undone. I pray that Jack will rejoin me in Heaven. I have been reassured by other horse owners who are Christian that Jesus has a horse in Heaven. Several near death experience books I read confirmed that.

We get a special animal in our lives like Cathy and Jack, sometimes only once in a lifetime, and more if we are lucky. I’ve lost 3 dogs before, and have 2 now. Euthanizing a 1200 pound horse while I whispered I love you in his ear was the most emotional thing I’ve ever gone through. It pains me to recall that morning. He was my steady riding horse, safe and calm, there when I needed to hug his big neck and cry into his mane, he let me kiss his wonderful velvety muzzle and always smelled of perfume there, horse perfume to a horse lover.

I have not wept at his grave for a while. It was daily for many weeks. I put flowers on the grave everyday for weeks. It is good I could bury him near his beloved barn and I can visit anytime I want with just a few hundred feet to walk there. I think loving an animal as intensely as you and I did, does make them able to be with us in Heaven. God is just, and kind and loves us. He would not deny us eternity with our beloved pets.

We are both lucky to have loved our special friends so deeply.

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