animal empathy Archives - Cat Lady in the CanyonCat Lady in the Canyon

“There’s a message in the wild / And I’m sending you this signal tonight…”
Lyrics from “Missing You” by John Waite

I look up from whisking a couple of eggs I’m about to scramble for breakfast on Sunday morning, my gaze lingers down the hallway and onto the deck to see Lexington relaxing on the chaise lounge. An Alison Krauss CD is playing in the living room, and the moment I hear the lyrics, “I ain’t missing you at all, since you’ve been gone away…” she sings in a duet with John Waite is when I see Lexington, and for a second, I see Topper next to him. I blink. Topper’s gone.

The defiant lyrics of self-protective denial after lost love ring true as I subconsciously trick myself into believing that Topper is still here. I ain’t missin’ you Topper, because you’re not really gone.

After breakfast, I checked-out Instagram and the first thing I saw was a post by musician Adam Lasher to which someone made a comment referring to his cockatiel named Topper. Hmmm. Coincidence….? I think to myself.

Later on Sunday, it was almost twilight as I drove down Laguna Canyon Road to meet my friend Lori at The Cliff for a view of the sunset and a glass of wine when the car driving next to me sped-up causing me to see its license plate, which included the letters PAW. I smiled, thinking how cute that license plate has the word, “paw” in it! I glanced over to oncoming traffic, all the beach-goers heading home and I see another license plate, which among its numeric identification included the letters PAW. Seriously? Seeing the word “paw” in two different license plates within three seconds of each other must be some kind of sign, I muttered to myself. As the sun went down, Lori and I pondered the possible meaning of the “double-paw” sign. We came up with a few ideas: my strong animal—particularly cat connection; feline finger-gunning (paw-paw); a reminder that horses also call to my soul and that I must get back to riding lessons someday—no wait, that would be a “hoof-hoof” sign, I said. We cracked-up laughing as we attempted to crack the case of the mysterious “double paw” license plate sign.

This morning as the synchronistic events lingered in my mind, it hit me: maybe the “double-paw” sign was another way of Topper getting through to me; his way of saying hello and comforting me, letting me know that he’s still around, just in a different way.

Hey, Top Cat, I am missing you, a lot, even though I’m starting to adjust to your departure.

Keep the signs coming, Love Bug.

I woke up in the middle of the night with heavy tightness in my chest. I took in a deep inhale and realized it wasn’t asthma, just a sad heart.

Life has been quite a struggle lately—unfulfilled work-related opportunities, all those close calls but not sealing the deal (the biggest disappointment was not landing curriculum authorship for a cat behavior certification program of which I was in the running); yet, the most disappointing is the recent end of my relationship with Gary. We broke-up a year ago after a 2.5 year run and had been on-and-off ever since, making attempts at reconciliation. Even during the “off” times we were in touch. Our connection was always strong; so was the hope. I mean, doesn’t “break-up” mean that something is simply broken and therefore, just needs to be fixed?

Apparently no amount of glue can fix our cracked hearts.

I took a couple more deep inhales and stretched out my legs to find that something was in the way of a complete stretch. It was Bobcat. So I rolled over to the other side of the bed, but was stopped short by Topper, snuggling the pillow on my right. I tried curling up with the pillow to my left, but grasped a handful of fluff—Lexington.

I slowly sat up and turned on the bedside table lamp, which cast an amber glow across the room, softly illuminating my Circle of Love: my three cats encasing me, embracing me with their love, undoubtedly knowing that I’d just lost my love for good and they were comforting me with theirs.

I finally fell back to sleep and awoke a second time with the sunrise, and with Topper still next to me. I released more sadness of recent events with a quiet cry. Topper rolled over to face me. He put is paw on my cheek and stared into my damp eyes. Then he licked my tears, which was so moving, I cried harder, then felt an overwhelming sense of joy at this sweet gesture by my feline companion; this near wild creature with such a tender side, which made me smile, then invoked laughter.