19/10/2022
Hope is a Kitten
I never would have dreamed that getting a new kitten would be the solution to so much in my life, but it has been just that. This kitten is not just any kitten, she is my reincarnated little black princess, who died on Memorial Day of this year.
Now anyone who has known me for more than a minute has heard me tell or write about my special connection with my cats. Whether they believe me or not is their business and not mine. It all started with my first cat, Sandy, who has since returned as Dustin then as Little Grey. That is another story for another day.
This story is about the reunion with my precious little girl, Anjolie. Her reintroduction into my life and household was nothing short of miraculous, and now it is nothing less than joyous.
I was first introduced to this little black cat in my neighborhood in Brownsville, Washington. I would see her out and about, running around on her own, far too close to a road that connected my rural home to a busy highway. The speed limit on that road was too high for domestic animals to run loose near it, and since there was a farm with guinea fowl and peacocks, I was careful to watch for her and the fowl whenever I was driving that road.
One dark night, the inevitable happened, she was struck and killed by a car. I was the driver. I was horrified. I am animal lover.
It was late one winter night, as dark as a back road in the country can be. I worked for Waldenbooks in Seattle and lived in Brownsville, Washington, 67 miles away on the Kitsap Peninsula, across Puget Sound from Bainbridge Island. I wasn’t fond of my long commute, but once the new Tacoma Narrows bridge was completed, it became easier to do.
There were few houses once you exited the highway and followed the back roads to my home. There were even fewer lights. I was surprised that night to spot two golden eyes gleaming in the darkness near the road I was traveling. I thought it was one of the raccoons I used to see occasionally at night. It wasn’t even close to the house where I had seen the black cat in the past. Seeing the eyes, I slowed my car to a stop, watching until the little being was in the grassy ditch off to the side. I proceeded then with caution and was shocked when the eyes ran back in front on my car suddenly. I slammed on my brakes quickly, but not quickly enough. I immediately felt the spirit of the little girl in my car so I knew I had killed her. I apologized to her spirit and told her that if she wanted to come back and let me be her mommy, that I would take better care of her and never let her roam unsupervised like that even in the daylight.
I was heart broken over this little cat, but I had to let it go. I get so torn up about animals being hurt that I have to limit my exposure to it as much as possible. As an empath, I feel the pain of others too keenly, be it humans or animals.
I eventually forgot about her because I had to deal with my little boy kitty, Bingo, who was dying of cancer. He died not long after that. When he did, the light went out in my other boy cat, Dustin's eyes. I still had two months left before my bookstore in Seattle closed, and my long commute finally came to an end. I was afraid that I would lose Dustin too because Bingo had been his best friend for nearly twelve years, and now Dustin was all alone.
I decided to get online and find him an older companion. I knew no one could replace our Bingo, but I knew I had to do something quickly before he died of a broken heart.
I found a beautiful long-hair calico in Olympia. She was 15, but I knew that calicos tend to be long lived, so I emailed the woman to learn more about Zuki. The cat had belonged to one person for 14 years, but that person had to give her up, so her friend took her. Now the friend would be moving to New York, where she had to travel a lot. I was sad for this cat to get rehomed twice, but I knew she would be well cared for with me, and at least she and Dustin could keep each other company until my 11-hour days, 4-day week job ended in two months.
I was right. They were company for one another, even though they never became real friends. They were at least a distraction from the grief of their losses and my long hours at work.
I soon began looking for Bingo’s return, because he had begun communication with me via my dreams. I made arrangements for him to come to me after I was finished with my store's closing. I told him to pick a sibling he loved, and I would adopt them both. The thought of releasing a single kitten on two older cats seemed a tad sadistic, but having him bring a sibling would give him someone equally energetic to spar with at least.
I was blessed with Zuki’s presence for less than two years, but I fell head over heels in love with her. She loved to be carried around all the time. She was small and weighed only about six pounds. When she suddenly got sick, I told her that I would love it if she came back to me. She gave me one of her long looks that made me realize that she knew far more than I did about animals and their humans. I let it go, but I did tell her that I would love to get to know her as a kitten at least. Oddly enough, I received no strange look that time. She later came back as Chi with sister Tai. They were my housemate’s kittens, so I watched them both grow up. When my housemate and best friend voiced concern about getting kittens at her age, I quickly reassured her that I would take in the sisters, if something happened to her. Little did I know that not only would I take in those two when my best friend could no longer care for them, but that I would get two more survivors to go with them.
Back to my new kitten. Anjolie stayed with me for 14 years, longer than any of my cats, except Dustin, who was my guy for 15 years, during his second incarnation with me. With short breaks in between lives, my boy and I have been together since 1986, when I got Sandy, my first kitten, as an adult.
When Anjolie got sick, it was a difficult ordeal with several trips to the local animal hospital, where they had no idea what was wrong with her. I could tell it was going to cost thousands of dollars for the tests just to figure out what ailed her. In the meantime, they wanted to put her on prednisone and make her miserable while they tried to figure out what was wrong. I opted instead to make what little life she had as peaceful and pleasant as possible. We got about two and a half peaceful months, which is much more than I think she would have gotten if I had been cramming medicine with harsh side effects down her throat. It was a difficult choice to make, but after I tried so hard to battle cancer in Bingo’s body, I learned that a few short months of misery is not a good investment when you don’t have good odds of survival. Sure, we had a few more months together, but when he came back a few months later in an energetic, happy kitten’s body, I realized that I had made a short-sighted decision. I had made him suffer so I could be with him a little while longer.
Fast forward 15 years, and this time I made the humane decision for my little girl. It was gut-wrenching, but I said goodbye, not knowing how long it would be until I saw her again. I do, after all, still have to care for four of my best friend’s surviving cats. I wasn’t even ready to begin thinking about raising another kitten until I had a better handle on taking care of my boy and Jan's four girls. I am challenged enough already being in a wheelchair. I’m barely able to care for myself when I’m taxed with fatigues or hurricanes.
Yet, merely two and a half months after she died, I dreamed that a short dark red bus pulled to a stop directly in front of me. The doors opened and out walked my Anjolie, looking as skinny and old as she had before she died. The message to me was clear: Anjolie is back! It took me a couple seconds to process that information in my sleepy brain, but I got it. I also got that the unseen driver of the red bus had to be none other than my best friend, who is watching out for my other kitties and hers on their other side, as I watch out for a combination of hers and mine on this of the veil. Her last vehicle was a red SUV. Many of her vehicles over the years were red, which is not one of my favorite colors, though it was hers.
The most important thing was that my baby was back, and I needed to be on the lookout for her as a kitten. That same day, I told my new best friend about it, because she was Jan's other best friend, and had been helping the cats and me all along, since before our friend died. She immediately said, “Hey, I just got an email about a family in our neighborhood that has a litter of six kittens they’re trying to home.” I laughed inside and encouraged her to check to see if there were any black females. There were. Two fuzzy ones and a sleek one. I asked for photos of the fuzzy ones and got them. There she was, my little girl, looking almost exactly the way she had looked before as a kitten. I felt her spirit in my heart just looking at her photo, so I knew it was her. I asked them to hold her for me, and my friend was able to pick her up a couple days later and bring her to me. From dream to reunion was six days. I was elated.
In the meantime, I was talking to the angels and getting answers in my dreams. First, I asked them to let me dream about kittens if she was in this particular litter. I dreamed about a litter of kittens but saw no black ones. Of course, that wasn’t my request, and angels are very literal. So I asked for another dream that would make me absolutely certain that this was the right litter. I took a nap and woke up to a written message in all caps: ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN! I chuckled again.
Then I started to get myself in a tizzy about whether they would know which black fuzzy kitten was which. I started drifting off when I heard a female voice speak to me ever so quietly. She uttered only two words to me, but the tone of her voice stopped me in my tracks. She said, “dear Beth.” Those words were filled with deep love and kindness
I asked who it was talking to me, and got the answer that it was Archangel Ariel. The air in the room changed suddenly, and I felt a little ridiculous. Archangel Ariel is in charge of helping animals, so it made sense that she was with my baby, helping her to find her way back to me. If an archangel was watching over my baby girl, of course she would make sure the correct kitten would be brought to me. I stopped fretting right away. Everything was going to be okay. My baby was coming home.
When we sat huddled in my bedroom while a major hurricane shook my mobile home for 17 hours, I knew Archangel Ariel wouldn’t have brought my baby girl back to me just to separate us again immediately. That just didn’t seem right. I knew that we just had to ride out the storm and come out the other side. That was truly a challenge when there was no sleeping through it. I wasn’t making myself stay awake. It was just so loud, even in the quietest part of the house. As soon as I finally drifted off in my uncomfortable position in my wheelchair, A big gust of wind would hit and jar me into consciousness. That happened every few minutes not hours. I think I got one solid hour of sleep that night. The rest was short naps and wakefulness.
The next morning brought home the reality of post-hurricane recovery. I was very fortunate that there was little to no damage at my house and yard. By the time my friend got to me the morning after, my lawn guy had already cleared the debris from my big tree and had it in a huge pile ready for pickup. My friend had brought jugs of water from her house, since we had none at mine. It was sporadic for the next two days so we trusted nothing that wasn’t bottled in advance. Finally on the evening of the third day, they got the power on for five minutes then it went off again for an hour. Then it came on again for good. With both power and water restored after three days, I could focus on self care and kitty care.
Ariel had been fun and entertaining this whole time, because as long as the temperature didn’t get too high, the house was comfortable for a while. Power or no power, running water or no running water, her basic needs were being met. The hurricane had stopped its incessant howling. Mommy and siblings were all present and accounted for, so life was good again after one really noisy night.
In the meantime, she was teaching me a thing or two about trust. Her presence was a constant reminder of the care of an archangel in our lives. She was a living example of divine personal love and care. She provides daily a beacon of hope. Hope that tomorrow won’t be exactly like today. Hope in the understanding that angels are present, watching over our lives, protecting us and helping us because that is their purpose. Not to be our servants, but to be our allies. Not to solve all our problems, but to help us find the answers and solutions we seek that will aid us in solving our problems. They are our problems after all, not theirs.
Angels protected my home. Angels protected my tree. Angels protected my cats and me. That was nothing short of a miracle.
Now I feel like she is a guiding light to a new place of comfort and peace. Her presence back in my life as a new tiny person has me looking towards a new future. Just as she has a new body, I will have a new life and a healed body. I accept that things as they are, but I have hope that every tomorrow will reveal greater comfort and peace.
Her name is Ariel. She is named after the archangel who reunited us and restored hope to my life. In the midst of the hurricane, in the midst of the difficulties of living with spinal injuries with complications from mistreatment, allergic reactions, and unexpected drug side effects, there is hope. That hope is a kitten.
