![]() She’s not that old for a cat. Eleven and a half. A year ago she climbed into a seat that I had made for Swamiji covered in silk sarrees. These seats or asanams hold powerful energy and are only for Swamji. But when Leah curled up and lay in Swamiji’s lap for almost 24 hours, I thought something was wrong with her. Leah knew it, and sought out the best place for healing. After a full day of sleeping in the lap of Swamiji, she went outside. When she came back to the house, she was dragging both back legs, paralyzed. Over the summer she gradually regained most of her mobility but by fall she had lost muscle control of her bowels. Saskia nursed her through the summer, giving up her bed to Leah and sleeping on the floor, anything to make Leah more comfortable. Brian and I took over Leah's care when she went back to University. I gave the technical care, feeding and cleaning up the daily messes, which I hated. Brain sat with her every night and loved her. A few weeks ago I called Saskia to tell her that something had shifted in Leah and I thought the end was near. There was no outward symptoms, she just seemed much lower energy. Then suddenly a few days later, she was bleeding from a mass on her hind leg that had appeared almost overnight. We took her to the vet who said it was most likely cancer, but in the end the diagnosis was inconclusive. She received antibiotics and some homeopathic remedies. And her energy totally shifted. She ran down the hall, jumped up on a chair, jumped on a bed, and seemed more mobile than in ages. She pooped in the litter box which had not happened in months. I couldn't believe she had looked so close to death. She had managed to go downstairs, something she had not been able to do in months, and had tried to get outside. I realized later, she was probably going out to die alone, as cats are known to do.
A week after the mass appeared, she was lying in an empty cardboard box, as opposed to all the dog and cat beds and human beds that she loves. She had lost control of her bladder and was lying in her own urine. Her breathing was labored. I took her out of the box and she was limp in my arms. I called Saskia and Asha and told them to say their good-byes. I put her in my room so she wouldn’t die in Saskia’s room and she lay peacefully, limply for hours. 5 hours. In that five hours I suffered from fear, grief and judgement. I regretted not being kinder to her in the last 6 months, letting her have one last nuzzle of my hair. For six months I had taken the job of cleaning her space and her messes and had grown angry and resentful towards her. I had felt unable to just "love" her as she was. I have rarely used the word "can't" in my life. Using the word "can't" feels like a cop-out, a failure. I would say to myself, "Are you dead? Then you can do it." But here it was in front of me. There was some reason I could not give Leah the affection she wanted. I decided to try it on. "I can't hold Leah because she is stinky and it will stink up my hair and clothes." Just saying it out-loud let the floodgates of failure in. And also some relief. I said it over and over in many different ways. And all the grief and resentment melting. I returned to the house and went upstairs, sure I would find that she had died in my absence but hoping I would have another chance to let her nuzzle my hair. She was still alive and she lifted her head and turned to look at me. I picked her up and let her nuzzle with me. I decided that I could be with her, I could wash my hair and clothing and throw out what got ruined. She made it through that night and is holding steady.
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Bodhanaa NithyanandaWriting to Discover and En-spire. Archives
April 2021
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