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.

This is my ‘second shot’ at this .....
Such a sad and yes, inspiring, story. As I ‘pen’ this, I am staring into the eyes of a cat that looks like no crap will be taken....
I lost one a year ago, she was 10 and had the name “CAT” as I like to keep things simple and usually form a ‘bond’ with a pet that he/she knows when it is time to interact.
I also had a hand in ‘Cats’ demise, trying to help her in a time of need and misread the situation - what I though may have been a massive hairball that I attempted to help her remove, turned out to be a piece of nylon string that she had somehow swallowed and apparently wrapped around her innards. The Vet (sort of) chastised me as to not bringing her in sooner but I believe he ‘read’ the grief in my face and sensed the hurt I was going through as I told him the best thing would probably be to let her ‘go in peace’.
He gave me a minute (or as much as I could stand) but she was really unable to lick me as she had picked up that habit and it drove me ‘crazy’ but at this point was sorry I had not allowed her to ‘lick away’ as it seemed to please her so much.
I immediately got a replacement to help fill the void but Whitey ( a black cat with a smidgeon or two of white) was really too young and I found take away from ‘mom’ way to early so for the past year I have been serving as a pin cushion for a large mostly black cat.
The companion I got him (to divert him from driving me crazy) turned out to be a tiny little thing, though older and he is white, with a smidgeon or two of black, so, naturally I named him Blacky.
So, together, they have teamed up to make my life ‘very interesting’, and like yours, if I leave the room for more than a minute, they track me down and position themselves so they will know where I am constantly.
A ‘bad habit’ though is they tend to think ANYTHING on a table or elevated surface needs to be down on the floor so they can spend time with it, the favorite being my computer mouse....the shiny red ball gets extracted and they tend to bat it around till they lose it - then it is up to me to find it so I can stupidly leave it where they can find it.
However, probably wouldn’t have it any other way..

Sorry to ‘steal your moment’, just want you to know that ‘I feel your sadness and loss’ and do recommend you get a stand in - you will never replace them as I still get occasional flashbacks of cats I have owned (well you know what I mean) over the last 6+ decades.....

Again, sorry for your loss and I hope the ink on this paper isn’t smearing from the ‘salty discharge’ I am discovering coming from the area of my eyes.

Pax to ‘Cathy’

IF you have not heard it before, allow me to ‘post’ a poem inspired by a Norse Legend, called “The Rainbow Bridge”.

“THE RAINBOW BRIDGE”
By the edge of a wood, at the foot of a hill,
is a lush, green meadow where time stands still.
Where the friends of man and woman do run,
when their time on earth is over and done.
For here, between this world and the next,
is a place where each beloved creature finds rest.
On this golden land, they wait and they play,
till the Rainbow Bridge they cross over one day.

No more do they suffer, in pain or in sadness,
for here they are whole,
their lives filled with gladness.

Their limbs are restored, their health renewed,
their bodies have healed, with strength imbued.
They romp through the grass,
without even a care,
until one day they start, and sniff at the air.

All ears prick forward, eyes dart front and back,
then all of a sudden, one breaks from the pack.
For just at that instant, their eyes have met;
Together again, both person and pet.
So they run to each other,
these friends from long past,
the time of their parting is over at last.

The sadness they felt while they were apart,
has turned into joy once more in each heart.
They embrace with a love that will last forever,
and then, side-by-side,
they cross over ... together.

Again, sorry to ‘hog your time’....

Here comes more of that ‘salty discharge’ and a ‘grinning’ black cat needing to ‘sharpen his claws’....

Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.