Conversation with Cricket

I had another session with Danielle Tremblay of Insight With Animals mainly to connect with Cricket. I checked in with Penny, too, just to make sure she likes the new apartment and to see if there’s anything more I can do for her right now.

Penny likes the new space, says it’s light and bright, and warm, safe, and comfortable. She feels like I’m not finished unpacking. In fact I am, but she complained that “all of the objects aren’t out for me to look at.” I think because we’ve had roommates for so many years now she’s used to seeing the bookshelf in my bedroom, where most of the chotchkies sit. It’s in the dining area now, the least used room in the house because I’m a bachelor and I eat dinner on the couch watching TV. They’re spread out on the mantel, as well, and throughout the shelving in the main entryway, and all over, really.

Actually, I don’t know what Penny’s talking about. I’ve downsized quite a bit, but this place is so small I feel overwhelmed at times by “visual noise,” still. My knick knacks, however, are sentimental and vital. In the last couple of moves, I’ve been strict and severe. Keep only what you cannot part with. What I kept I love and I have to see it. It’s out, on display, fussed with, futzed with, admired, enjoyed. Stuff!

Perhaps, like me, Penny is blinded by eye clutter. There isn’t a designated “place” for objet d’art, per se. It’s everywhere, scattered throughout. Maybe she’s just adjusting to the new space. It’s different from anything we’ve had. It’s compact, no question, but it’s beautiful! By far, my favorite home to date. In all my life, this is my favorite cozy abode to come back to. It’s me. It’s mine. It’s dripping with pretty, albeit a little too much of it.

It always amazes and amuses me when Danielle can tell me what my homes look like from what my cats show her. Penny likes one room in particular with a “wall of windows,” she said. “Wow! A wall of windows!” She also told Danielle that the ceilings are “very tall.” Well, yes, they are.

When we lived at Jax’s house, I asked Cricket how she liked it, and she did. She made sure to tell Danielle of another apartment she expressly did not like, showing her a narrow, dark space. “It’s true!’ I said. “I called it The Rail Car, because it was long and narrow, and it had such bad natural light that all of my plants died but one.”

Oh, Cricket.

First, she showed Danielle the image of her wrapped around me like a hug, while seated on a desk or a table. That’s exactly how we were! The exam table comes down at the vet, and I sat on a bench just below it. We were wrapped around each other, and I whispered my love to her while she purred to her last beautiful breath.

Next, Cricket gave a big sigh and told Danielle, “Mom has to know that I am so relieved.”

I knew she was. That last night was so hard. I told her a couple of times, “Don’t worry, honey. We’ll see the vet tomorrow, and you can go.”

She said, “Thank you.” She was so tired, and also, curiously, couldn’t seem to get out of her body herself, so she needed that support. “Thank you for understanding.”

Then I was scared that maybe I’d waited too long, that I shouldn’t even have made her suffer the ups and downs of never quite finding our stable dose, but for those last several weeks. Of course, she had told Danielle back then that she was content to stay in body while we sorted it out, even though she felt lousy.

Danielle reassured me that I hadn’t waited too long. “I’m glad that you tried,” Cricket said. “It would have been a bit of a shock to go sooner.”

“She loved being with you in the physical, and she continues to love being with you now,”  Danielle told me, adding that she sits on the bed near my head.

That’s where she slept.

Penny reported that she’s on the ottoman sometimes, too, next to the bed.

That’s how she got in bed, and she sat there often. It was hers.

Cricket told me that Penny needs extra TLC, even though she’s acting normal. She’s still adjusting and needs extra attention. Danielle reported that Penny didn’t go through a period of mourning. She understood that Cricket was sick, and she intuited and understood everything that was going on.

“This is what happens,” Penny said. She did agree, though, that quiet time is “extra quiet” without Cricket’s physical presence.

I asked Danielle if she could tell me about the days immediately following Cricket’s passing, and you’ll never guess. She tapped into that dream! I woke up with a feeling of her on my chest – and with a cat that girthy, it was unmistakably Cricket – and remembered her biting me in my dream. Cricket told Danielle that the bite was so I would know it was real, and that’s exactly what made it real for me! It was so physical and tangible, I couldn’t dismiss it as my imagination.

Danielle complimented Cricket on how well she got my attention. 🙂

I asked about the song, and Cricket’s reply was interesting. She didn’t send it. It was from the general universe. Of course it was! I believe in a random and loving Universe, and I see signs and magic every day. Of course someone had my back on such a day, losing my big fat belly cat.

I still marvel at the lyrics of that song, the timing of it starting – first strum of the first note – just as I turned the engine, and especially that it was a new to me. Having never known the words, I heard Cricket’s voice.

It felt as though she was speaking directly to me. I could feel her right next to me, separated by a millisecond. I could see what she must be newly experiencing, “standing at the center of time as it uncurls.”

It will forever remain one of the most miraculous things I’ve experienced.

Danielle validated Cricket amplifying the volume of crickets I heard in the evenings after she passed. She told Danielle, “I chirp,” and showed an image of a megaphone. It’s true! The crickets were louder in the days following her passing. I haven’t been in my home long enough to grow numb to the sounds of it, but already that chorus is quieter than those first astounding nights. It was deafening!

Danielle was quite amazed herself by the moments Cricket and I were describing, and Cricket said to her, “Well, it’s all real, Danielle!”

“I don’t doubt that it’s real,” she chuckled.

Cricket told her she knows that most people don’t often believe or understand.

Cricket also told Danielle that sometimes humans who are in distress at the passing of another “almost un-gel” from their bodies. According to Cricket, that’s why Penny sat on me like she did those first three mornings. If I hadn’t had to get up, she’d have stayed there all day. Normally, she’d wake me and then head straight for her food after a cuddle and a kiss or two. I love her for holding me.

It’s so Penny to do so. In our first meeting with Danielle, Penny said it was her job to care for the grounds, to sweep energy. She did “rounds” several times a day, walking through every room but one in Jax’s house. (That was a curious detail to get right.)

I’ve always called her The Queen. I teased her that it’s all hers, everything under the sun. In fact, it’s hers because it’s her job. She’s proud of her work and takes it seriously.

I’m glad it’s her job to take care of me. Oh, Penny. You started it all, this feline magic.

Danielle was so supportive and validating. She said that the three of us are co-creating all of this together, and we have a beautiful connection that she appreciated witnessing.

I’m so grateful for her. It was everything I wanted and more.

Cricket’s paw print arrived just days before the reading, perfectly cricky, just like her.

Cricket's paw print

At first glance, I didn’t like it. You can tell she’s not pushing back and her claws are wonky. It quickly grew on me. It suits her. She was always just a little “off.” She reminds me of my disheveled high school English teacher, whose slip was always showing. Oh, my sweet Cricket.

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Pet Psychic

I had another appointment with Danielle Tremblay of Insight With Animals on Friday. I first met with her 2+ years ago when Penny was having some territorial issues with Ollie, picking fights and using his litter box. Basically, she ratted me out and told Danielle that I didn’t clean her litter box every day, ha! Her logic was that Ollie, being an outdoor cat, left his box unused… for her. I got her her own box – She didn’t want to share with Cricket – and she did actually let up on Ollie a bit. There were still little dominance charges from time to time, but she was much more chill.

This time I wanted to speak mostly with Cricket. We saw the vet again Thursday. She’s still not stable, which I knew, and up to 5 units of insulin now. My sweet kitty absolutely broke my heart when Danielle described her as “putting her paw on [my] face and begging [me] to get this balanced. She doesn’t feel good.” She does exactly that! Puts her paw on my face and looks at me with the most pleading eyes.

It’s so interesting when I’m speaking with the psychic. The cats go crazy. They’re so intent on the conversation. Penny meows and meows. It’s hilarious. You can hear her on the recording. Cricket locks her gaze on me, like, “Get it? Did you get it? Can you hear me?”

Yes, honey. I’m trying.

She said she understands that I’m working on it, but she told the psychic that she’s being very patient and wants me to fix it soon. She has a stomachache. She told Danielle she had a bad day 3 days before the phone call, and that was right. She was so tired her eyes were heavy and glazed, and she sat in the cat box to pee… all over herself. I still can’t get the caked litter off the back of her legs. She’s so tired of me poking and pulling at it. I’ve given up, and I asked Danielle how Cricket feels about that mess being stuck to her for the time being. She doesn’t like it but, “See, I have to sit,” she said. “I’m just so tired. Some days I feel like I’m dragging my body around.”

She did tell Danielle she was content to stay “in body” for now while I continue to figure out her dose. I spoke with Karel at Peace With My Life, who helped me feel confident about behaviors that are good indicators of the day when Cricket will tell me she’s ready to go. For now, she’s willing to stay, and my only focus in life is to get her comfortable.

From there, we moved on to the move. I’m staying in Salt Lake City. I’ll probably never leave. It’s home and I love it, so there. Get over yourself, Christie.

I was concerned about the girls going through another stressful change with Cricket’s health causing so much discomfort and anxiety for them both. Through Danielle, I helped them understand that the new apartment is only a mile away, so the drive itself will be brief. And, oh, what awaits you when we arrive, my darlings!!!

I’ve been trying to get into this apartment for years! I asked Cricket specifically to please hang on ’til Christmas, because we have a fireplace! I want her to spend potentially her last winter cozying up with Penny and me in front of our beautiful fireplace! Did you hear? I HAVE A FIREPLACE!

fireplace

My friend’s cat last winter in front of what is now my fireplace.

And windows, Penny! So many windows! (Some with stained glass!) It will take weeks to determine which is your favorite perch for watching squirrels and birds and people, cats, dogs, and the dancing shadows of leaves and green…

Cricket said, “That sounds fine, but is it our home?”

“No,” I answered, “but it will feel like it. It’s all ours, just us. It will feel like home.”

Penny’s first concern was windows, even though I’d already made such a fuss. Her focus shifted, then, to the couch. She asked if we’d have a couch! It was a clear picture, Danielle said, replete with decorative pillows. I laughed and laughed, because I didn’t bring our couch when we moved last fall. I miss cuddling with her there.

She emphasized again and again the importance of “her” couch. It touched my heart. I couldn’t believe she missed our cuddle time, too.

It wasn’t until sometime later in the day, after I’d processed the reading, that I realized was she was saying. My heart broke. I realized then what Cricket meant, too, when she asked if we were going home. They were talking about Jax’s house.

Yes, Penny cuddled with me sometimes while I watched TV, but she spent most of her time in the window on the back of a sofa that no one used. It was more repository for pretty cushions than sitting area. Indeed, it was her couch. That was the home Cricket meant. They’re homesick.

The good news is that it doesn’t get better than where we’re going. It’s the best place I’ve ever lived. It’s east of downtown. (In the SLC, that reads “desirable.”) Long-term residential neighbors visit daily. It’s the most beautiful avenue in Salt Lake, a little one-way side street you hardly see. It’s like a private, hushed, chirping village with city amenities at the end of the block. Dappled leaves meet overhead in the middle of the road. The entire road. (Have I mentioned my obsession with leaves?!)

The workmanship in this home is ridiculous! It’s maintained, CLEAN, and designed with love. It’s rich and warm, saturated. It’s exactly my aesthetic. My belongings were made for this space, like we’ve been together forever. And I’m going to stay there forever! At least until my babies pass, and then who knows?

I guess I’ll have to make good on all those threats I made to be an interesting person. “If I don’t have a family by the time the kitties go, I’m gonna hit the road!” Gah. At 50, with a stout, lazy Taurus streak, it will be hard to leave anything, much less home. I’ve never felt more at home than I do in this place, and I got it! My dream! It’s mine! I’m so lucky.

I want Cricket to see Christmas. I want 4 or 5 years more with Pen. I’m taking them home, to comfy, cozy and rest, and I want them to enjoy it for the rest of their lives.

(P.S. I have a hot tub, too!!! Cricky does need a bath…)

Sweat Lodge

I was so gratified to meet the woman I wrote about last week. I had failed at Thanksgiving not to respond to the hate-mongering chatter that accompanies every family gathering, and I felt it: Failure.

Meeting hostility with anger is useless and stupid, but what the hell am I supposed to do? I asked politely. I teased. I asked again. I got mad.

This woman explained the difference between suffering in complicit silence, and going within to meet hatred with love. I’ve been trying for 15 minutes to capture the epiphany I had in a 2-minute conversation, but it was almost funny how simple it seemed.

Of course, the practice of it will be a different story, marked by many failings, to be sure, but it moved from theoretical and seemingly-impossible to entirely practical and doable. There’s a huge difference between angrily holding one’s tongue, and actively holding a space of “non-duality,” she called it. The silence of love is not the silence of restraint. That’s a game-changer for me!

I talk about energy all the time. Everyone knows what it is to walk in a room and feel it. The silence she described isn’t passive at all. It’s energized! It’s silly now that it seemed such a unattainable concept, when, really, it’s a straight-forward product of choice and action. It can’t be mistaken for tacit approval.

Suddenly, my need to act as standard bearer seemed silly, too. It’s not as if my family doesn’t know me. If any of my nieces or nephews is different, in any way, they know there’s a safe place for them. I don’t need to do that anymore.

I’m ready to graduate!

It does hurt that I don’t matter in my family. At best, I’m a joke. My point of view is the minority, so it’s dismissed. No one cares that that hurts me. They know. They continue.

And I’m strong enough.

“I will love, even here. How can I love, even here?” I trust Spirit to answer, if I truly commit to trying a new way, and I’m ready.

(Whoa! I just got really scared again!)

I AM READY.
non-duality

****

I brought a new, blank drum inside the lodge, which was borrowed by a leader and praised by her for its tone. That felt great! It was plenty soggy and bleak-sounding by the end of 4 long rounds, but bounced right back in the cold night air.

[I also made a killer leftover-turkey casserole for the pot luck following the lodge. It went like gangbusters! Jax is teaching me how to cook. We take Mormon comfort food – primarily based on Cream of Chicken Soup – and turn it out! This dish contained organic, home-grown tomato puree and chili powder. And cheese. Lots of cheese.]

My personal drum stayed out on the altar by the fire, to soak up and sing with our prayers and come home to bless me when I dance and meditate. So far, it’s attended a Love Rally and this prayer for Standing Rock, for water, the earth, and all of us. I love my drum!

Here’s my most recent. (So much detail is missing in this grainy shot!)drum-5
13″ on wood frame with mallet
$200
Nov. 23, 2016

I have a few more color incarnations to realize before I’m finished with this design, and more drums than I can paint right now (including 2 with rawhide lacing).

****

This was the first lodge that I didn’t really go into a trance-like state. Usually, when the heat starts to rise, I’m transported to the plains in a covered wagon. I don’t know that any of my ancestors came across in a covered wagon, but that imagery is powerful for Mormons, and it would be a no-brainer for my ancestors to get my attention in that way, to signal very clearly who it was I was feeling. The first time it happened was one of the most alarming and powerful visions I’ve ever experienced. I saw the faces of the Native people my ancestors would have encountered, and recognized that they were the brown-skinned ancestors of the the people I was praying with! Then, “Oh my god, they call the stones ‘The Ancestors.’ Our ancestors are here!” It was overwhelming.

I try not to expect repeat performances of my experiences. I try to be in the now, and learn what new thing is available from each event. But it was hard not to hope for that impression again when I went to my second lodge. And they came. Again and again and again. It was the same wagon journey into Spirit at every lodge, except this one.

Abigail, my favorite pioneer ancestor, did pop to mind in the 3rd round. I smiled. I love her. I thanked her for being with me since we “met” when I was ten, and then I had a thought of Sarah, who doesn’t come to me often. I don’t feel her strongly, but I have had a sense of her quiet, and it would make sense for me not to get it. What’s quiet? I truly don’t understand quiet. In fact, quiet people scare me. I think they hate me.

But Sarah did come to mind, and I had the thought to pray around her voice. “Please come as a signal for when it’s appropriate to act differently. Help me discern between the time to speak and the time to turn inward and LOVE, even here. Come in when it’s time for me to honor the place of neither right nor wrong, and just love, fiercely, quietly.”

I’m excited to see if I recognize her as I begin to practice non-duality. I think I might. I have recognized her energy. It’s harder, but she has a distinct feeling, and I’m excited to imagine I might a foster a relationship with her. Especially if it leads to healing. Especially for my mother’s family. Sarah is my mother’s family.

not-the-end

Not The End, by Julie Rogers, depicts my ancestor, Sarah Ann, on one of her 32 crossings of the icy North Platte River to carry Saints to safety.

Tell My Story gives a detailed account of this episode of the Martin Handcart Company’s ill-fated journey to Salt Lake City. I’m really proud of Sarah. Scroll down and enjoy!

All Strong Women Are Called Bitch

nasty-womanI woke up Friday morning, suddenly aware that my belief that election stress hadn’t gotten to me was, in fact, a coping strategy to hide from what now feels very much like trauma! It broke my heart to see how disconnected I’d become from my emotions just to survive this shit. It was alarming, because I try to look honestly at myself and what my feelings are telling me. I was hiding from pain!

Post-election is going to be ugly, too. There will be no ideal reconciliation, or even real workability, but thank god this part is OVER. The longest, most vitriolic election in modern history. I feel like I’ve been beaten.

I ached again for the little girl who grew up in a violent home, who developed that coping mechanism just so she could breathe. I read once that Depression isn’t merely a pervasive low feeling, but the absence of all feeling, eventually the inability to feel. A person crying “the tears of the damned,” I call them, will do anything not to feel them. Not to feel. They stop being able to feel at all, even the good stuff. It’s horrible, and it comes from hiding from pain.

I would have thought that I had a special radar for noticing when that technique was creeping into my life. I didn’t see it at all! You hear the buzz words “election anxiety” everywhere, and I had perched myself above it, in very much the same way I would leave my body during violence that I thought would kill me. When I saw it – her – I ached, and went in again to be the grown-up I needed when I was a terrified little girl.

I decided that I will no longer watch any news or footage of any kind until Wednesday, and I haven’t. Of course, it’s everywhere. You can’t get away from it. But I’m not permitting the sound bytes into my life anymore. I’ll know tomorrow what happens tonight.

At one point Friday, I was praying and dancing – with my new beautiful mandala hand drum – and putting peace and healing into the meditation/energy bubble I’ve described before. I had this vision of Hillary Clinton ushering in a reconciliation era. I felt almost elated! I danced and celebrated, and put all of my love into that vision.

The next day, I woke up feeling like such an idiot! I’m so stupid! Hillary won’t be permitted to lead our national recovery. They’re going to eviscerate her! They are going to make her pay so hard! They will never stop trying to SILENCE THE WOMAN. And they want the rest of us to witness what happens when we dare to speak.

I felt like crying. I felt hopeless.

And then I didn’t. Immediately, I thanked her again. She is the only woman who could break this final fucking ceiling. Whatever you think of Hillary Clinton, SHE has opened the door at last for women to be taken seriously in U.S. Presidential races.

The United States hates women as much as it hates black people. It’s shameful that it’s taken so long for a woman to break through that insistent wall of fear and desperation. Germany has Angela Merkel. England has Theresa May, and the Iron Lady was taken seriously decades ago. Israel had Golda Meir a lifetime ago! She was born in 1898!

But not here. Never here. Here, they don’t want to hear. SHUT UP, said white male privilege to every woman and every person of color. “It is the existential fear of displacement from a world that has slowly – too slowly, for too long – been chipping away at white male supremacy.” -Rolling Stone

Hillary Clinton was the woman to break through that blockade, not because her place in history is that of a peacekeeper. That woman is a warrior! She’s strong enough to take anything they say and do to her. And only that woman can handle what’s coming after she’s elected. She’s a battering ram! And she’s willing to do it.

So I’m grateful. I don’t love her perfectly. That’s a childish world view. Politics is messy business. No one is 100% happy 100% of the time. That’s dictatorship. But Hillary Clinton has accomplished things across both sides of the aisle, that make the world a better place. Deal with it.

Unfortunately, I doubt we’ll see any of that ever again. This bipartisan bullshit is an attempt by the Republican party to bring down everyone if they can’t have their way, exactly as they want  it. It’s so dangerous. It breaks my heart.

I can’t get bogged down by the futility of it all. I just have to believe in my ridiculous mystical bubble – and I do – and send all of my love into it. I can imagine myself into real visions of peace and cooperation, and when that sight takes the pain from my heart, I pray and pray and pray. “Let the world feel this, NOW. Let everyone who sees this in their heart send the power of their healing into the bubble, too, and make it grow!”

It goes in the bin with the other shit hippie chicks say, but it can’t hurt.

“Do the best you can until you know better. When you know better, do better.”
-Maya Angelou

drum

Tonight, I will go to a belly dance class, and come home to work on my next mandala. In this way, I’ll hear none of the nonsense that I don’t need. It’s done.

I’ve found that the repetition of each rotation brings on a trance state, where the mind forgets its being-ness, and what’s inside comes up. I’ve caught myself putting hatred and anger into these beautiful lines and curves, but I catch myself and stop. That’s huge. I’m developing the ability to watch my thoughts!

I want to pour love, joy, healing, humor, and everything beautiful about my inner nugget into these drums I’ve come to love so much. They contain prayers and magic!

Kumbaya, bitches!

womens-suffrage

I Am Worthy

Someone shares my mantra! And my style. The artwork is so me!
worthy
Color color color, and a flower 🙂
loriportka.compen and crick
My bed: Color color color, and cats…

My dresser:pink tulips

In fact, fresh flowers were Cricket’s suggestion, via the pet psychic. They match her gentleness, energetically. I thank her for them every day.

“You have such good ideas!” I tell her.

Call Danielle Tremblay at Insight With Animals for your own reading. She’s wonderful!
red tulips.JPG

Pet Psychic

What a wonderful experience! I’m so glad I did it.

Yes, Penny rules the house. She considers herself the Keeper of the Grounds. She walks the entirety of the place a couple of times each day to sweep the energy – except for Jax’s bathroom. (Danielle accurately saw that she surveys almost every room.) It’s her job to “keep the floors clean energetically.”

I’ve felt Penny’s magic from the start. One of her first nicknames was Magicat. I’ve referred to her as The Queen (and myself as Serving Wench). She was always in charge.

Cricket was the Court Jester. She was such a silly kitten. Now she is a Lady. I met her regal nature on Friday!

I asked the psychic to check in with her, because I can’t hear her like I can Penny. I almost cried when Danielle tapped into her gentleness, her beautiful softness. I felt her sweetness. My heart has burned in my chest with love for her many times, but to finally feel an energetic connection with her was so rewarding and so intimate.

Cricket told Danielle I was a good mom. She calls me Mother. 🙂

I invested in the session to work out Penny’s territorial issues with Oliver and his litter box, but the most gratifying connection was with Cricket’s sensitivity. She asked for fresh flowers in our bedroom.

She’s very happy with the space, which I sensed and asked about. Danielle accurately described our room(s) as spacious and filled with light. Cricket even showed her an old apartment for comparison. I called that poky hall The Rail Car, and Danielle rightly saw it as narrow and dark. All but one of my plants died there.

Now I have 17 thriving green things throughout the sunroom and house, and a daffodil from our yard on the dresser in my Cricket’s room, which houses “everything her heart desires,” including her food. My Little Fatty showed the psychic FOOD!CRICKAs for Penny using Ollie’s box, I had a feeling… I sorta knew… No, I knew… I gave her permission to tell on me, and she did. Penny told Danielle that it wasn’t about disrespecting Ollie but about a clean box. He usually goes outside, so why not use his? It’s always empty.

I feel so guilty! I feel like a schmuck even feeling guilty. It didn’t motivate me to properly honor them with a clean box. I would go days sometimes without scooping! For eleven years, I have made the empty promise every time I started over with fresh litter, “I swear I’ll clean it every day from now on! You deserve better than this!” And I never did it.

Now I clean 2 boxes every single day. Witness. (I added a box for Pen in the spare room.)

****

I was delighted when Ollie asked Danielle to call him Oliver, preferring the formal since he doesn’t know her. I find that so charming.

I laughed and laughed and laughed when Danielle revealed that Penny owns me. We were talking with Cricket about the possibility of spending more time in the greater house. She revealed her belief that she’s not welcome. “Penny doesn’t want me out there.” Cricket’s fine with that, but Danielle checked in with Penny at that point to ask how she would feel about Cricket coming out more often. She said, “She’s nice but, see, I own mom.”

It’s true! Whenever I sweet-talk Cricket or brush her, wherever Penny is in the house she comes running. “Right one cue! Can’t have a minute with someone other than you!”

Of course, I thought it was the sweetest thing in the world to belong to her – she has my heart – but Danielle revealed that whenever an animal tells her that, it’s more like a dog owning a bone. Now we have an opportunity to develop a deeper spiritual connection. I’ve been asking Penny since Friday to please consider seeing me as her partner and equal. I believe that we can love each other even better when she lets herself respect me as a being and not an object.

That being said, she did show Danielle how affectionate she is and said she was a “very good friend to [me].” She is.

Thank you, Danielle! What an honor to connect so deeply with my beloved girls.
Insight With Animals

Solutions

Karel at Peace With My Life posted “Finding Solutions” yesterday. I read it after I’d already ranted over here. She helped me remember that I’m perfectly fine being perfectly human, and that solutions will present themselves whether I want to wallow in awful or not.

In her blog, Karel has written much about animal communication sessions she does with Danielle Tremblay at Insight With Animals. I’ve always wanted to do it, but couldn’t justify such an expense. She recommended it to me, though, and today it just felt like the right thing to do. Odd, since I’m still having security anxiety, which always reduces to money (even though I don’t really think that’s what it’s about).

So I did it! I’ve signed up for a 15 minute session over the phone on Friday!

When I’m feeling down like I was yesterday, my beliefs –  angels, repeating numbers, psychic phenomena – become laughable and I’m just stupid, but even if this woman can’t help the cats in our home, it worked because I feel better. I’m so excited!

And whadya know? Instantly, I came up with a solution I couldn’t see yesterday. I’m adding a litter box to the spare room. Perhaps Penny will feel like she gets to “break the rules” by using a box other than her own, and she won’t have to share with Stinky Cricket, bless her, who doesn’t cover her contributions.

This will make a difference, I know it, and so will our session on Friday.