We were sitting in the small receiving room awaiting the vet to appear. Soon enough she did. When she walked in I heard a voice somewhere in my head that startled me. A coarse and unfamiliar voice snarled, “I don’t like you. I’d like you to go away.” Humorously in retrospect, I thought I might be picking up the vet’s thoughts… but then I worried that it had come from some unrecognized part of myself. I finally understood that it was Lolita, the cat, trying to orchestrate her own destiny.
My interaction with the vet was rocky to say the least. Lolita had taken a nasty fall and was showing signs of disorientation. When the vet gave the suggested course of action, i.e., blood tests, etc., I mentioned that I’d like to pursue other options. The vet let me know there was no time for options, that Lolita was fast becoming a hospice case.
Lolita’s own need for survival was so strong, I felt an overpowering impulse to take action that was out of character for me. I gathered her up and fled the office before the visit was complete. Once in the car and driving away, I started to breathe again, and was surprised that I could feel Lolita’s life force coming back in so powerfully.
I took her home and brought this barn cat into the house where I held her for hours. I made a place for her on my bed and drifted off to sleep with her nearby. The next morning, I was awakened by two paws planted one on either side of my face, massaging my cheeks. It makes me giggle when I think back on it now. It felt like she was patting my face to get me to wake up so she could say, “thank you, thank you, thank you,” but in a much nicer voice this time. She was clearly better than the day before without any treatment other than rescuing her from the vet she didn’t like, and giving her love and attention. “Love alone can heal,” were words from a practitioner friend that replaced the vet’s doomsday prognosis.
Love certainly was making a difference and may have been the only thing necessary, however, I also gave her a homeopathic remedy that turned out to be the perfect match and she showed a response almost immediately. For the next couple of hours there were dramatic improvements, sometimes minute by minute. It was like watching a speeded up version of a flower opening on the nature channel. Within 24 hours she was well.
Lolita knew how to manifest physical healing in a spectacular way and allowed me to be her witness. Her unusual attentiveness to me and to Tal during his time of physical duress is a constant reminder of what she brings from her own experience.
In defense of the vet, Lolita appeared in very bad shape clinically. I was appalled that she seemed to be shriveling right before my eyes as the vet was observing her. As I pondered this later, I was reminded of an incident with my son over 35 years ago when he was about 4 years old.
He had poison oak. During that time in our lives, he would accompany me to a prayer group I attended weekly. This particular day, the women said prayers for him not as some kind of focus on a miraculous healing, but rather as what I call courtesy prayers but no less sincere and powerful. The next morning, however, he was worse. His face and whole body were covered with poison oak. I was preparing to rush him to the doctor when I noticed that he was exhibiting absolutely no discomfort even though he looked awful. He was playing happily with his little matchbox cars, and I remember him humming a tune… or maybe he was mimicking engine sounds for his array of miniature cars! Nevertheless there was an intriguing contradiction between how he looked and how he was acting. Once I became aware of this, I relaxed and within a couple of hours, his physical symptoms completely disappeared.
Lolita’s experience, and my son’s so many years ago have been supporting reminders for me as I have been presented with discrepancies between the seen and the unseen worlds with Tal. There have been numerous times when I was given his true essence when physically his condition seemed unchanged.
One night in particular, he seemed to glow in the starlight and there was a delightful, almost fragrant energy emanating from him. This seemed to belie what I was observing physically but the impact of what I was feeling was so strong it overpowered what I was seeing. When I asked him if there was anything more I could do for him that evening. He told me that it would make him happy if I would go back to the cabin and eat my dinner, in other words, “I’m ok. Go take care of yourself.” I did. I carried his warm glow home with me.
There were more events all seeming to be planned to give me practice, a schooling perhaps, in preparation for the time with Tal when I would be surrendering to the unseen comfortably and effortlessly.