The Quiet Wisdom of Lucy The Cat
My cat, Lucy, teaches me a way of grounding myself. She’s my meditation coach, and more. When I’m lost in my thoughts, she curls up on my lap (or stands on my desk in between my two monitors if that’s where I am), purring a gentle reminder to me: “Cinny, just be.” She moves through life with effortless grace, trusting the flow of each moment. Watching her bask in the sunlight or stretch her body slowwwllly with perfect ease, or showing off her athleticism, I intuitively feel that she knows about things that I don’t—things ancient, or sacred. Spirituality isn’t about random searching, but about searching for meaning and purpose while existing fully in the moment at the soul level, as Lucy does. How lucky am I?
Here’s the story of how Lucy (along with her daughter, Rikki), came to me. A number of years ago, I had my first of two hip replacements (I love my titanium hips!), and I was on leave from my then-business-job. At that time, I had no cats; the two I’d had for many years had crossed the rainbow bridge a year or two apart from each other. I was kinda lost without cat company – and I was going to be working from home for three months and wanted to adopt two kitties. So, off I went, crutches and all, to a couple of local shelters.
Fast forward: at one shelter, I was drawn to two cats in a (double) cage together: a black kitty mom and her then-4-week-old kitten. They’d been taken to the shelter by a person who could no longer keep them. I went to the shelter a few days in a row, let them out of their cage (with permission of course; all other cats in that room were in their cages) and sat in one chair of three beside each other to watch the kitten play. The mom-kitty, the black kitty now known as Lucy, hopped up onto a chair, with one empty between us. I visited the gals again the next day. That day, the mom again joined me hopping up onto that third chair to supervise her daughter (and me), and I gently moved my hand towards her. Luckily, I have quick reactions: she swatted at my hand with claws out and attempted to bite me. All righty, then! We went back to just lovingly watching her baby kitty together.
After several more visits, I decided I wanted to adopt Lucy and her daughter, Rikki. The shelter checked me out, I signed the paperwork, and the cats came home with me. I assumed that Lucy was not familiar with what’s in a “house.” I’d adopted a feral in the past, so felt comfortable handling that. But I was wrong. When I let Lucy and Rikki out of their carriers, Lucy went boop-boop-boop up the stairs and then back down. She jumped onto a kitchen counter, etc. All righty! So, Lucy was clearly familiar with what’s in a house. But, she would not let me touch her in any way. She was fine with me walking by her when she was on the kitchen bar, and one day at a time, as I passed by her I’d at first just say something to her, then would later place a finger gently on her back for half a second as I walked by her… and carried on with that for, well, a couple of years. She was very interactive with me, loved it when I threw toys around for her to chase – she is super athletic - but she was not up for being touched. Her job was being a super mom to Rikki.
Fast forward about five years after Lucy and Rikki joined me at home. I was watching TV one evening, with my legs crossed on the table in front of the couch. All of a sudden, Lucy jumped onto my lap, looked up at my face, curled up, and stayed on my lap. Which she always does now. And she purrs with happiness! And more! Oh my!
Fast forward a bit more. I’ve been an animal lover from birth, and Lucy pointed me to becoming an animal communicator / pet psychic. After some research, I was drawn to Danielle Mackinnon’s Soul Level Animal Communication ® program, which helps students to turn on the light for communicating with a range of animals – as cat communicators, dog communicators, horse communicators, and more. How lucky am I to work with clients and their animals, and I am so lucky to have Lucy as a coach.