De Ja Vous

"DE JA VOUS!" was my first thought as I held my breath and quickly shucked off my sweatshirt. Tossing the sweatshirt into the hamper, my nose caught waves of the odor still clinging to it, the odor of rotting flesh, the smell of death. "De ja vous! What did I miss the first time, why is it here again?"

Thirty plus years ago when we lived in Oregon, my kitty-loving daughter befriended one of the neighbor's white cats. And soon "Snowball" was hanging out on our covered deck 24/7. I called the neighbors to inform them of the where-abouts of their missing cat, and they were doubly relieved. Their lost cat was now accounted for, and somebody wanted it! They were moving and one cat was enough. Snowball became ours!

A couple of years later, Snowball's white ears got sunburned and one would not heal. The vet said her ear was cancerous, common in white cats, and he suggested removing both ears. A kitty's face without ears looks much like a monkey's face. Visitors often displayed shocked expressions of horror, repulsion, or concern upon seeing her, but Snowball didn't seem to care that she had no ears, and we didn't care either. She was, after all, the same sweet kitty.

A few years later, Snowball became sick. Lab tests revealed she had feline leukemia, despite the fact she'd been vaccinated for it. "The vaccine is not 100%," the vet said, and "she'll likely die within a few weeks." I took Snowball home, did some energy work on her, and teased her appetite with canned tuna. She recovered.

A year later growths appeared on top of Snowball's head. They didn't seem to bother her. The vet said they were cancerous growths... she is white after all. My decision was to do nothing. Now she looked like an alien monkey with black antennae. Time passed and Snowball's antennae grew bigger, but never seemed to cause her any distress.

Then one day I noticed the growths were oozy, and when I picked her up, the smell of rotten flesh wafted from her head. "Oh, Snowball," I said, "this is not good. The smell is so bad, it's going to make it difficult to hold you and love you without reacting to it. And that is not fair to you." I went in and called the vet, scheduling an appointment for euthanasia. It was the right decision.

15 years ago, now in Texas, as I'm driving to town one day, a tiny black and white ball of fur ran in front of my car. I stopped, stuck my head out the window and said, "What are you doing in the middle of the road?" As if to say, "Waiting for you!" the fur ball ran to my car door. I opened it, reached down and swooped up a beautiful kitten, put her in my lap, turned the car around and took her home. The top of her head & ears were black as if wearing a hat, and the black continued down her back to the tip of her tail. But most of her body and her face were white, her eyes black rimmed as if she were Egyptian. I named her Nefferteetee.

Neffer's been a real trooper, moving from the freedom of a country cat to the city, living in the kitty-kennel. She endured two other rescue kitties who lived with us at different times. And in the last years she's become a willing traveler, crossing the country back and forth to Oregon twice in the car and adapting to new digs there. But when I returned from Oregon in October, Neffer didn't travel as well as usual; she was stressed. Lately I've noticed she has a bit of a balance issue sometimes, and she seems thinner, but she is 15 after all, and past her prime.

A few days ago her left eye began to water and look strange. She had eye discharge last year, too... allergies. Yesterday, I had Gene help me clip her nails and cut out some hair mats. He found two growths behind her left ear, same side of the head as the bad eye. I know what they are.

This morning as I carried her to the kennel, she rested her head against my torso like she always does, as if to hug me while I'm carrying her. When I put her down, I noticed a leison has opened above her eye and it 's oozing. I know what it is.

Within seconds of going back inside the house, I become aware of the odor rising from the front of my sweatshirt where Neffer had rested her head.

De ja vous! What did I miss with Snowball, that Nefferteetee now brings to me? Was my first decision wrong? Should I have waited? Let Nature take Its course? Had I been self-centered and not really loving at all? Tears of guilt about the past and of sadness for the present engulfed me, still do as I write.

What did my decision about Snowball say? Did it say, "You're only lovable if you meet my criteria"?

And if I turn that around, what is the projected message about me? "I'm only lovable if I meet your criteria." Well, I can't say I've never thought that one. I've even based choices on that people pleasing belief.

Yet, what is the truth of the matter? I'm lovable, you're lovable, Snowball's lovable, Neffer's lovable; we're all worthy of being loved because of what we are, reflections of God's Love. It is our Nature to love and be loved.

That is the fact, yet I still feel guilty. Was my decision to euthanize Snowball loving or selfish? At the time I felt it was a loving choice. But was it? Why do I feel guilty? And what do I do with the guilt? There's only one thing to do... I gave it to Jesus, "Here, Jesus, is all my guilt about my decision for Snowball, let me experience this memory differently."

Almost instantly, this thought comes to me, "What if you misunderstood? What if the smell was an agreed upon signal between the two of you, that it was time for you to make the ultimate loving decision, to release Snowball?" I was struck silent, a peaceful silence. The guilt was gone.

So I am at this juncture again, this time with Neffer. But it comes laden with gifts of enlightenment about the nature of Love... Love is.

Bless you, Neffer, and thank you.

peace

p.s. Neffer and I have a 4:00 p.m. appointment at the vet's today. Let there be Peace.