End of a Chapter – Stormy – Rite of passage

“I believe cats to be spirits come to earth. A cat, I am sure, could walk on a cloud without coming through.” – Jules Verne

We first met Stormy (Tuxedo) and his brother Bob (Garfield) when they were tiny kittens, appearing to be newly weaned, and lost. Wandering into our yard, Bob, being a bit larger and louder, was the most approachable and the advocate for the duo. Stormy was more curious about the chipmunks.

Scooping them up and hauling them off to a safe space indoors, we set them up in a large dog kennel, and stocked it with toys and kitten food. Yes, we are pet people. Our older cat, Chloe, had been accustomed to having companions but the tiny twosome were not yet ready to be introduced because we didn’t know if they had been given their shots.

The next day the neighbor from next door showed up with her two young boys asking if we had seen any kittens. It was disappointing to admit we had them after showing them where they were staying and hearing an exclamation of astonished surprise from one of the boys, “They have toys!”

The tiny kittens were returned to be housed in their garage. Door ajar, they roamed the neighborhood and mostly our yard. Bob took on the role of site manager and watched Andy as he worked to redo several rooms in the house. The ambient noise of the saw was no deterrent. We watched as the kittens were taken on walks (following along) through the neighborhood – trained to be outdoor cats.

About four months later we were given the option to take the kittens. The neighbors were moving. Their boys were allergic to cats. We learned the kittens were farm cats. No shots. No toys. No attachment. Disposable. I know that sounds negative — but — and this is a — big but — that is how it worked for them to be with us. Something about their time with the neighbor was necessary. Then they moved on to be with us.

Long story short, Stormy was a beautiful cat – exquisite markings – but I knew from the beginning – he was on borrowed time. He had been conditioned to be an outdoor cat. Bob stayed closer to home. Stormy roamed and he was miserable (as were we) when confined. When left for more than a night or two alone (with Bob) – specific rubbery shoes were chosen to suffer the consequences.

Outdoor cat in the city – average life span is two years. Source Link. Highly active, Stormy loved running and playing in the yard with our two dogs. German Shepherd, Gracie was his preference. Jack considered him an avoidable nuisance. (Jealous.)

Gracie died three years ago. Age 14. Cassie arrived several months later. It wasn’t obvious how much Jack, our Papillion, now 12, had been grieving until she joined us. He adored Gracie from the moment they met and liked to volunteer her as his stand-in whenever a confrontation (he initiated) with another dog seemed imminent.

With Cassie’s arrival, Jack revived and came out of retirement. Bob abstained from puppy training but Stormy enjoyed the challenge, stepping up and engaging her, teasing her, sprinting through the yard, ducking behind the couch or jumping out of reach if she came too close. Cassie is a German Shephard, very much like Gracie when she was young, inquisitive and full of energy. There were sparks.

Stormy chased mice, chipmunks, and rabbits. Cassie chased all of those and him too. My last solid memory of the two of them was the day before he left. Andy and I were in the yard watching the two of them together, nose to nose, relaxing in the grass.

We talked about how the dynamic had finally shifted – they had achieved equal status. Cassie didn’t have to chase Stormy. She could enjoy being with him quietly too. Only in retrospect did it factor in that Stormy also made a point at that time to connect with Andy and I – jumping up to get a few pets. It was a very unique moment.

Stormy went out the next day at 4 am. It had started to rain at 7. I went to let him in and he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Usually, he would sit at the door or nearby to wait to be let in. This time it felt different and I didn’t like it. He didn’t return. Something was wrong. I immediately started praying for his return. (I realize now I could have added one more word to that prayer: safe.)

Shortly after he and Bob came to live with us – he got trapped under a construction tarp a few houses away and wasn’t able to make it home for a few days. It was stressful, but Andy and I both sensed he would come back.

After that, his pattern was predictable. A neighbor returned his liberated collar once but there was never a question about when he would return. If and when we needed him to adjust his schedule, no matter what, when Andy called, he would appear and be ready to come in within ten minutes.

This time, the energy was different. I tuned in to ask what had happened. I had a sense of being trapped but couldn’t get a lock on the location. That was it. Empty.

I tuned in again the next morning and the feeling had changed. This time, I felt my chest tighten and my breath catch. It was like suffocating. I cut it off. That wasn’t a good sign. As we ate breakfast, I got a weird pain just under my rib cage on the right side. It didn’t make sense and I couldn’t place it.

Again, I asked the guides where he was. They responded that he would be home in the afternoon (same day). I didn’t like that answer – because ‘home’ may not be this plane. (Overthinking. Worry.) I tried to see it in a positive light. It would be a resolution and that worked. I pictured him walking into the yard.

Andy said he had a dream about Stormy coming into the yard but there was fog around him. My interpretation of that was that Stormy was telling us he had died.

We returned home from the dog park in late afternoon and there was no sign of Stormy. Disappointment and anxiety. Still missing, The guides said afternoon. I worried that he could be hurt. I would start checking local animal shelters on Monday. Or, if the collar was still on, our phone number was there and someone would surely call if they had him.

9:30 pm. We were watching television. I needed to check the door. Surprise, there had been a delivery after we came home. One of the literary marketing reps sent me a book to review. I picked it up – gave it a glance and saw the word miracle in the title. My focus was on Stormy. Still missing. Too much time had passed. He should have been back. And he also missed the afternoon timeline the guides had given. That made me frustrated about my own inner connection, that I couldn’t trust the information.

I took my cue from the book and begged. Please help me. I need a miracle. Help me so I can help him. I also said, I need you to help me so I can help you. I heard the response and the words were clear. “Far corner of the yard.” Finally, a specific answer.

I grabbed a flashlight and searched the yard. I didn’t see him at first. But there was a black area that looked like an open dirt space under the birch tree. It wasn’t dirt. It was Stormy. His body was stiff but it was also dry. So he hadn’t been caught in the rain. He’d been out and able to stay dry. No visible sign of injury, but we have other outdoor cats in our neighborhood. He might have been chased – and hit by a car.

Years ago, I lost another cat to a car accident and the body was the same – no sign of injury. That time I was also given a telepathic instruction for the location to retrieve the body.

Remembering more of the data stream from my earlier inquiries, the guides said it was not intentional – it was an accident. His behavior would be different. When stressed I don’t always get a clean transmission and have to work hard to avoid projecting my hope and/or fear on the information. I had been concerned about inadvertent exposure to poison – because Stormy was eating mice – accidental poisoning. That was a primary focus and wrong. A conjecture on my part. There were no physical signs of that.

In reviewing my symptoms; internal gas, asphyxiation and heart pain, it matched with what the guides said. (Another conversation I didn’t write down. It was all happening too fast for me to keep up with. And I was too stressed.) Heart attack. If I had found him sooner – he would have been taken to the vet and potentially given extreme life saving procedures.

Stormy’s actions over the last few days had changed. Where he chose to sleep was different. The final interaction with Cassie was amazing. Calm, relaxed, peaceful. He knew he was on his way to the next assignment. I wasn’t supposed to intervene.

It doesn’t make it any easier on this end but it helps to know I didn’t put him through any additional suffering while he made his transition. I miss him. Bob misses him. Cassie knew he was gone. Jack – was never a fan. Such is life.

I asked for an update. He said he had a nice life. I hope so – This is such an awkward state to be in. Knowing and not knowing – allowing that things happen for a purpose – each navigates his own journey and all are doing the best we can with what we know at the time and improving upon that with what we learn.

We love and love on.

I believe there is a portal near the tree where I found Stormy. He made it home to the yard (as I implored) and dropped his body for me to find as he crossed into the next dimension. A reminder – the body is a temporary house for the soul. Like us, pets complete their assignment and advance to the spirit realm. Some wonderful spaces require a different form to gain access.

No need to rush. More than anything else – our animal peers would like us to know – Love is waiting at the door they opened. They check in on us – to see our progress – and accompany the group to collect us if and when we are ready.

That book that I found on my doorstep: Winks from Above: Opening Up to Signs and Synchronicities to Receive Little Miracles Each Day. Amazon.

Resources for Pet loss

• AVAM link.
• Coping with losing a pet. Link.
• Dealing with Pet Loss: How to help a grieving pet parent. ““Greater society doesn’t recognize the intensity of this loss and the grieving that comes with it,” said Jessica Kwerel, a D.C. psychotherapist who specializes in pet loss.” The Washington Post.
• Pets immortalized in Poems. Link.