A continuation of yesterday’s post, “Reflecting on the Loss of a Pet”
A week ago, I awoke knowing that it was time to let my cat Pip pass on in peace. I contacted a wonderful in-home euthanasia service (Final Journey, LLC) who were incredibly helpful and willing to come to our home that night so that my husband Carl wouldn’t have to take time off from his new job. Their website spelled out the process and set my mind at ease, but my heart kept aching. I stepped outside onto our back patio to cry where my cats (Gladys and Pip) couldn’t hear me. As I did, I watched several birds, a dragonfly, and a moth dance about in a tree a few feet away. They seemed to be sending comforting thoughts. I said out loud, “God please send me a sign that this is the right decision.” Nothing came. So, I dried my eyes and went back into the house to attend to Pip. A short while later he and I were lying together on my bedroom floor as I brushed him (his favorite activity). As I turned onto my back in a position of surrender, I noticed through the skylights that there was a hawk hovering high above. I knew that was my sign, as it had been so many times before.
Signs, Signs, Everywhere
When the time came for Pip to take his last breath, I was comforting him on a favorite pillow by a window. Over his shoulder I could see a hummingbird flitting around the yard. My husband and I were both a bit distraught, and though I had assembled Pip’s favorite toys and favorite brush, I hadn’t thought that much about how the actual burial would unfold. I suddenly realized I had nothing to wrap him in. I asked Carl to grab one of his work shirts. He ran quickly to our room to grab an old shirt. He returned with a red T-shirt that had once been mine. I had won it at a happy hour when Carl and I were first dating. Although I had worn it as a nightshirt for years, it had found its way into Carl’s bureau. As I placed the cozy shirt under Pip, I noticed that the shirt, being an advertisement for Bacardi, had a little black bat on it. It made me catch my breath as I flashed back to the day when we adopted Pip. He was a tiny, sickly kitty with big ears, and we both thought he looked like a bat.
Hanging In There
The various signs – the book, the Facebook post, the hawk, the hummingbird, the bat shirt – all gave me validation that we had made the right decision. But, what transpired in the hours and days that followed made it convincingly clear that although we had been forced to accept the loss, we were never going to be without our beloved friend. Knowing what I do about animal communication, I spoke to Pip very bluntly before his passing. I asked him to please visit me when he was in the spirit world. The very night he took his last breath a white moth appeared in our bedroom, and hovered in the spot where I brushed Pip every night before bed. I have been seeing white moths ever since. Then, when I finally ventured out of the house days following his passing, I went into a store to find something to place at his grave. There I happened upon an angel cat figurine that looks remarkably like Pip. It shall serve as a comforting reminder that my buddy is still with me.
