The Owl And The Pussy Cat

I got a text early last Saturday morning before I even got out of bed. A friend was going to have to put her cat down that afternoon and wondered if I could be there. My first knee-jerk reaction was, "of course I'd be there," and mentally I started canceling all the plans I'd made for the day. That's what I do, or one of the things I do -- I've mentioned before my knack for helping animals pass over. I also try to always be there with at least a hug for my friends. But before I answered, I paused to check my feelings, to tune in to my inner barometer, to see what my heart said. I was still in bed for a reason -- I was exhausted. Just the day before my emotions had taken an unexpected nose dive -- a cumulative effect of a number of things, including a number of deaths. I was in no shape to be there for someone else when I felt like a shell of a person myself. And the plans I'd made were to spend some much needed time with some friends that I don't get to see too often anymore, to work on art and be creative -- a totally nurturing day for me. As much as I really wanted to be there I had to take care of myself and say no. As it turns out, my friend said she thought she needed to go through this alone anyway because, otherwise all her friends would not already have been busy.

I assured her that, though I wouldn't be there physically, I would support her, even send her hugs, energetically and I would be there for her kitty, Lioness, to help her pass. I lingered a bit longer in bed, connecting with my friend and Lioness to send energy to them, then asked my reiki helpers to continue the flow of energy to them as I got on with my day. I breakfasted, showered, gathered my stuff, then headed up to my other friend's studio as planned, sending my first friend an extra boost of light and love whenever the thought of her flickered across my consciousness.

I had only been to the art studio once before and, as it happens, the second time I was just as successful in missing my turn onto the correct road as the first. I swung into the same little Park & Ride to turn around as I did the first time, only this time I stopped. I looked at the clock. It was mere minutes before Lioness was scheduled to be put under.

I turned off my car, pulled my legs up beneath me in a half-lotus position, and closed my eyes. Almost instantly I connected with Lioness and, as happens frequently (in my experience) she was not totally in her body, kind of coming and going, yet I heard her long steady purr the entire time. Then I saw her spirit sit up straight to her full height, majestically living up to her namesake. I sensed that she had not quite passed yet, but that this was her way of facing the end with the regalness and poise that one as dignified as she embodied.

There was a shift and I suddenly saw her head, from the side, right up close in front of me. She looked at me and meowed a thank you. Then she turned, as a portal of light opened and expanded in the distance, and transforming into an owl, she flew into the light. It was probably one of the most amazing things I have ever beheld! What a privilege and honor to witness such an event!

I thought back to my dreams the night before, realizing that, though I didn't remember details, they had definitely involved owls. Apparently I'd already started working with her. The odd thing too is that the first time I met Lioness, my first thought was, "Being a cat was not her first choice." And when I recounted this whole story to my friend, her reaction was something like, "She had such sad eyes -- like an owl's!"

So whatever form you take, Lioness, it was a pleasure to know you and be part of your life. Thank you for allowing me to be there at your passing. Farewell and I wish you always safe journeys. You will be missed. Owl's well.