Thank you Leslie and everyone that has been sending kind thoughts and
posts. You're right Wendy, Leslie's email has made me feel "better".
It's so very comforting to know that others understand and are
compassionate about what we're going through. Spencer has not come home
and I haven't been able to find him. I am making peace with the fact
that I am no longer "leader" in his care and my sorrow is somewhat
lessened believing that this was his choice. It hasn't stopped me from
stirring from my bed several times last night to walk quietly outside
and call to him. I'm still asking my other animals if they know where
he is. A couple of them seem to be telling me he's not coming back.
There was a moment yesterday morning before I left that passed between
Spencer and I, something in his eyes that seemed to be saying goodbye,
or please, it wasn't clear, but it was powerful. I shook it off because
I wanted to remain optimistic and because I didn't know what to do with
the feeling. Maybe, as Leslie so eloquently describes, I did know.
Maybe that's why I left that door open. I have no idea how many times
I've written or told others that we of a different species don't view
things the same way as our fur children, that they have a different
perception of the world, different needs to fulfill. So much easier to
say, even easier to know, then to feel. This is the very first time
that an animal has chosen to physically separate themselves from my
presence when they are in such a precarious state. It is very difficult
to bear, but the thought of him having what he needs, the quiet and
solitude that I couldn't give him, does help ease the pain a little.
One of the ACs described the spot he found for himself... Shady with
plants, green, mossy and cool, she said he was breathing in the oxygen
from the plants and feeling very peaceful. She described the area
enough for me to imagine he could be talking about my immediate
neighbor's yard. She said it had a zen-like feeling and that there was
only one person that lived in the house. You better believe I've
searched high and low in that yard. I've often commented to the older
lady that lives there, (alone btw), what a good feeling her yard has,
calm and serene.
No matter how long my time on this earth is, I'll never stop being
grateful to my fur friends for the lessons they provide. I will also
never understand why the most important lessons are so often accompanied
by tears. One of the feelings among the many that are coursing through
me right now is gratitude. Gratitude with tears. Maybe that should be
the name of the book of essays I finally put together in order to share
my journey with others.
Thank you once again for letting me ramble. Thank you for always being
there.
With much love and appreciation,
Nina
Leslie wrote:
Ah Nina, please do not feel repentant or sad, Spencer has found the
energy to communicate directly and compassionately to you. If there
is one thing that we can not lose it is faith in these cats to know
life in a way that is much simpler and purer than we can. You have
been open to his desires and loving to his needs and passionate about
leading him where you believe that he wants to go. Now, with the
strength from who knows where, he is again leading. Don't stop
looking, but be gentle and understanding in your efforts.
I often look back at situations and am baffled by something that I
said/did, or didn't say/do, that was really out of character. I
reflect on how there was a little voice saying, "this is weird", or
the absence of the little voice that would normally be speaking, but
the outcome, couldn't have happened unless I acted as I had. I feel
in these circumstances that these are the times that something greater
has stepped in. Mitichlorians (from Star Wars - the "force"), God,
fate, chance, I don't know the word for it, but it happens. Something
that even in ourselves can not be explained as to why we did
something, I believe to have been influenced by something larger.
You were open to Spencer communicating with you. Nina, she of
continual words of love and advice and understanding to us, he has.
I so hope that this doesn't seem harsh. I am crying now writing it to
you, I am all on board with fist shaking and wanting to be selfish and
wanting to be selfish and wanting to be selfish and not let them go.
You have helped me so much through my recent time of pain, I just want
to send the biggest hug through the computer to you, put my hands on
your shoulders and just let you know that you have not acted for a
second in any way that wasn't the kindest, most loving, and
compassionate towards Spencer, nor are you now in your tears and your
searching, and to let you know that he knows that. You took him to
the vet for momentary pain to make things better, he would never put
you through momentary pain either unless it was to eventually make
things better. He would NEVER want you to feel guilt for letting him
choose what to do next.
It's true, you don't know what is happening with him, but on a deeper
level, you do know. And you know that whatever occurs, he is with you
and he is okay. He is stronger than we are and he is thanking you for
everything. And we don't know what will happen. A quiet place also
means healing. The vet wasn't able to determine what was happening in
him. Maybe Spencer knows and knows that he needs to be alone for a
while to heal. I have heard of this happening. Every time I've gone
to force feed one of mine, I think of a story that a friend told me of
a cat she owned decades ago that didn't eat for 5 days. This was
before everyone "knew" to force feed. Her cat secluded herself, ran a
fever, didn't eat until she came out of the fast, the fever broken,
and started to chow down. Even in a situation that we know that we
know, before we were so certain, life still acted as it will.
Don't lose faith in your friend, and don't lose faith in yourself.
I hope that all is well with you both. Strong mitichlorian thoughts
in your direction.
Leslie
Date: Tue, 05 Sep 2006 17:21:53 -0700
From: Nina <[EMAIL PROTECTED] <mailto:[EMAIL PROTECTED]>>
Subject: Re: Spencer update
To: [email protected] <mailto:[email protected]>
Message-ID: <[EMAIL PROTECTED]
<mailto:[EMAIL PROTECTED]> >
Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1; format=flowed
I have awful news. Spencer has gone missing. It's completely my
fault,
I don't know what I was thinking. I left for appointments this
morning
and deliberately left the door open for the dogs and cats. I've been
doing this forever, but I knew Spencer was very sick, I know that cats
can decide to find a quiet place to pass on their own, yet I left the
door open. In the six months that Spencer has been with us he rarely
goes outside and when he does it's to keep me company in the yard.
Whenever I call to him, he comes running like a puppy. I can only
fear
the worst. I talked with a couple of ACs and they said that he was
looking for quiet and solitude, things that are in very short supply
around this madhouse. I've been combing the bushes and going through
the neighbor's yards all day. If he's still moving, if he wants
to, I'm
praying that he'll come home. It even went through my mind to
shut him
up before I left this morning, but I didn't think he'd be moving
off his
bed much and I don't know, I didn't really process this thought,
but I
didn't want him to feel like a prisoner either. He's been so good
through his illness. The vets last night kept commenting about how
sweet he was, I just hated to force anything on him.
I just wanted to let you all know. I can't think of a punishment
graver
than not knowing what happened to him. I'm doing my best to not think
of this in terms of punishment at all, just what is. It's too late to
close the barn door now. I've gone through the frantic mode of
finding
him gone, been crying as I search, right now I'm feeling really numb.
When I called Bruce at work to tell him, he asked me why I would
want to
have forced him to die in the house with us if that's not what he
wanted. I could only come up with selfish answers for that one. The
hardest part of all this is that I may never know. I'm still praying
that he walks in the door.
Feeling repentant and very very sad,
Nina
