Within the first six months of moving to Texas, I was presented on my birthday with a beautiful orange tabby kitten with the greenest eyes that I have ever seen. I had never had a cat before, because my parents hated them and my mother is highly allergic. This sweet, sassy kitten gave so much to me and my family.
Because I had him, my abusive father refused to visit me. This kitten made me safer than I had ever been before.
This kitten knew he was a guardian. When we would have circle, he would always patrol the boundary, warding it.
This kitten raised my children. He played with them, taught them compassion and responsibility and showed them just how much a non-human can love. He played dress-up, survived “spin therapy,” and a myriad of other games with my children, always tolerant, loving and assured.
This kitten raised my other cats and dogs. He was able to train a terrier, for goddess’ sake, not to chase cats and to behave herself. He kept the peace in an often chaotic household, teaching the other cats to live peaceably with one another. He often gave me the look that spoke so eloquently, “Oh gods, not another one.”
When we held circle last night, both in Austin and in Houston, and as I gave thanks for him to Bast/Sakhmet, a cat that I had never seen before, white-faced and gray-striped, kept poking its head over the 8 foot fence, then disappeared in the bushes.
I held him and my son as my son learned the painful lesson about letting go.
I held him on the way to the vet, as he cuddled me during the car ride.
I held him as he slipped away for the last time.
I pray that he knows how much he accomplished in his life.
I pray that he returns to me soon.
Day is done,
Gone the sun,
from the lakes,
from the hills,
from the sky.
All is well,