bertie
My sister has these weird clairvoyant moments. When they happen, she just knows. They're not common, and they're not usually too over-specific, but when she gets them, they're almost always accurate. For example, when mom dropped a lot of money into a surgery and medication for a cat we used to have, Mary argued against it, saying she didn't see Bastet being with us much longer. Next thing you know, she disappears, presumably stolen by some neighbors who didn't like that we had her and whose moving away coincided with her disappearance. Another example is that she always had a peculiar knack for knowing that her boyfriend (now ex) was upset exactly when he was upset.
Today, we took Roxie for a walk. I spotted a white cat picking its way delicately over a log and pointed it out. I thought the stark contrast between it and its dark surroundings was interesting. Aunt Brenda was with us, and commented that it looked like Bertie. Bertie was a white kitten I gave to Lea as a Christmas present years before. She raised him and he was a pretty good, very smart animal. She took him with her when she moved back to Washington. He ran away just a couple of days later, but thanks to Mary's talents with computers and networking, he was found a month later, a little scruffy, but well. After that, he ran away again, maybe more than once, but the last time, no one went looking.
Anyway, when Aunt Brenda said the white cat made her think of Bertie, I said I wouldn't be surprised, given that pets have been known to travel across the country by themselves, trying to get back to familiar surroundings or following their families. Mary said she would be very surprised.
Then she talked about her latest clairvoyant flash. She said she got the feeling - the certainty - a few days ago that he died. When I asked if she had a feeling about how, she said starvation or freezing. It was so sad to me that I didn't say anything else about it for awhile. Later on, though, since it still bothered me, I asked where she thought he might have been. The image that came to her, she said, was of a thin, perhaps four day old corpse with tight skin and barely open eyes, lying on a piece of newspaper against a wall.
It was one of the saddest images I've heard her describe, and it's been bothering me all night. What's funny is that just a couple of days ago, I thought about him, and wondered where he was. If anyone had adopted him. If he was okay. But now it's almost a certainty that he died a sad, slow, lonely death, and no one missed him. I don't know why it's bothering me so much. Maybe because, as a domestic animal, he had known a much better life. Maybe because it's horrible to think he belonged to someone, but they didn't look for him. Maybe because he'd been around long enough to exhibit a personality.
Maybe because I loved him, too. Maybe I should stop asking if she ever found him.
Posted via m.livejournal.com.
Today, we took Roxie for a walk. I spotted a white cat picking its way delicately over a log and pointed it out. I thought the stark contrast between it and its dark surroundings was interesting. Aunt Brenda was with us, and commented that it looked like Bertie. Bertie was a white kitten I gave to Lea as a Christmas present years before. She raised him and he was a pretty good, very smart animal. She took him with her when she moved back to Washington. He ran away just a couple of days later, but thanks to Mary's talents with computers and networking, he was found a month later, a little scruffy, but well. After that, he ran away again, maybe more than once, but the last time, no one went looking.
Anyway, when Aunt Brenda said the white cat made her think of Bertie, I said I wouldn't be surprised, given that pets have been known to travel across the country by themselves, trying to get back to familiar surroundings or following their families. Mary said she would be very surprised.
Then she talked about her latest clairvoyant flash. She said she got the feeling - the certainty - a few days ago that he died. When I asked if she had a feeling about how, she said starvation or freezing. It was so sad to me that I didn't say anything else about it for awhile. Later on, though, since it still bothered me, I asked where she thought he might have been. The image that came to her, she said, was of a thin, perhaps four day old corpse with tight skin and barely open eyes, lying on a piece of newspaper against a wall.
It was one of the saddest images I've heard her describe, and it's been bothering me all night. What's funny is that just a couple of days ago, I thought about him, and wondered where he was. If anyone had adopted him. If he was okay. But now it's almost a certainty that he died a sad, slow, lonely death, and no one missed him. I don't know why it's bothering me so much. Maybe because, as a domestic animal, he had known a much better life. Maybe because it's horrible to think he belonged to someone, but they didn't look for him. Maybe because he'd been around long enough to exhibit a personality.
Maybe because I loved him, too. Maybe I should stop asking if she ever found him.
Posted via m.livejournal.com.