The Grief of losing a pet never gets easier, but it does get more predictable.
For some of us, losing a beloved treasured animal (I was going to say pet but I want to include horses) is one of the hardiest things we will ever do. So hard in fact, that every day I talk to people who say: “never again. I am never having a dog/cat/horse again. Losing them was just too hard.”
Many of these former pet owners don’t want to cry. They don’t want to FEEL that deep pain, with perhaps fear that it will be too much of. That once that pain is tapped into, it will be so horrific it will engulf them. I am here to tell you that it doesn’t swallow you. What it does is set you free.
Since I have been an intuitive medium, I have come to see death in a different light, literally. I talk to beings who have died. They can be the same as they are in life (so much so that when looking for a lost cat, it is difficult to tell if they are alive or dead). In fact, if they are still in on this plane, they are the same as when they are alive, just without their body.
The beings I channel that are in heaven (or the place I call heaven) are incredibly amazingly blissful. It is a utopian state which I don’t remember feeling before I channelled that dimension. How can you be sad for someone that is happy beyond measure?
I ask you that question, but I know how you can be sad. You are not sad for them now, but for the loss of their presence.
My cat Spike disappeared last week. He had been very ill the previous month, and was very indignant that I gave him medical care instead of just allowing him to cross. Spike was 14, heavier than he should be, but it was the first time he was ill. It was obvious he wasn’t going to live until 26 like his predecessor Speedy. However, I was hopeful that I would have him for a few years longer. When I asked him to stay in his physical body, he wouldn’t respond. What he did say to me was that he did not want any further medical care. He informed me that I had gone over the line and invaded his sacred space by giving him antibiotics and fluids without asking him first.
Two weeks later:
Spike is still missing; I can feel that he is gone. He did suicide by coyote, a feline favorite. I would love to be wrong about this, but the days keep rolling past. I asked all the neighbors if they had seen Spike, no news.
Spike liked to hangout next door in the neighbor’s jeep when he was at the breaking point with our multi-cat & dog family. Spike would come to any neighbor if they simply called his name. He was very sophisticated with traffic. He knew to look both ways before crossing the street. Then he was inside in bed by 9 pm every night.
If we are lucky, our pets love us like our angels do, beyond measure, whether we deserve it or not. Spike pushed me to love him explicitly, even though he chewed thru my computer cords with regularity, laid on my head when I was sleeping & drooled when he purred (sometimes on my head when I was sleeping – nothing beats being woken up by a tablespoonful of drool on your face). I was challenged to love him including those bad behaviors, because he was constant in his love for me.
Spike was the first cat I communicated with about refraining from hunting varmints. He didn’t see that there was a difference between rabbits, mice and pack rats. He swore fervently that they were all the same, so he couldn’t hunt any of them. Spike was a peach though- I told him not to hunt birds; he never did again.
Spike demanded to be petted everyday. He didn’t care if I had work to do or was in a bad mood, he would come and sit on me. Spike never got mad. Ever. When Gracie, my dog would try to ride him, he would give a weird little meow, then just flop to his side. No matter how many time she did it, he never scratched her or smacked her. Spike never scratched anyone. He was a lover not a fighter.
I simply miss him. I love him so much. He is an incredible being. When I asked the neighbors, they said that spike had dropped by, all three of them had seen him. Just like Spike; a final goodbye. Spike had loved them too, so it makes perfect sense.
A week later, I received a psychic message from Spike: “you never let anybody leave. You hold on so tightly, making it difficult to leave. You pulled Lucie, Frankie & Buffy out of the mouth of death last year. I knew you wouldn’t let me die at home.”
I am not lost as deeply in the shroud of belief surrounding death. I miss Spike. Yet at the same time, I feel him, see him even, frolicking in heaven, lean and joyous, still loving me, still connected to me, taking a break from this heavy life in this dense dimension. I can’t help but be happy for him and thankful. Thankful that my life included knowing him, loving him, and that by that love, we will always be connected. Death does not change the immense power of that love. Spike, like a feline Buddha, in death, DANCES. He lived life on his terms. I have to either accept that.
Thru my grief work with clients, I have realized you HAVE to go thru your grief to get to your life on the other side. If the loss isn’t processed, you carry it around. Of course it seems to hard to get another pet. You still are “not-dealing” with your previous one.
We are meant to live this life. We CAME HERE to make choices. Out of those choices, one shines above all others. That is the choice for love. That choice for me, is to continuing living with and loving cats and dogs, even after Spike has gone. I see it as the highest compliment to his life with me; that he taught me how to love, so magnificently, that I want to share it with new cats.
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