This post is to celebrate and honor my cat Scheisters, who died August 16th, 2005.
Those of us with pets often find ourselves wondering, if our pets could talk what would they say? My feline companion of sixteen years, Scheisters, gave me incredible words of comfort after his passing.
Scheisters was a seventeen year old orange tabby, full of himself and full of life. Prior to adopting me, he resided at the local humane society and answered to Gus. At our first meeting he climbed into my arms and nestled down with the ease as if he had known me all his short kitten life. In our first 24 hours together I discovered the unique talents this kitty possessed. He was quite capable of turning lights on and off, opening doors, and especially accomplished at opening the cabinet door that housed his food. He was renamed Scheisters.
In the summer of 2005 I returned to Illinois for a week to visit my family and friends. I knew the critters were in good hands while I was gone as their vet tech was staying with them. I returned and everyone was happy and healthy.
The following morning I awoke to find Scheisters lying deadly still in front of his water bowl. I thought he had passed during the night, but when I touched him, he raised his head. I immediately called the vet and took him in.
Other than a highly-elevated white blood cell count, all the tests were normal. He remained at the clinic for the day so they could stabilize him and monitor his progress. I was confident the vet would diagnose the problem and “fix” my buddy.
Throughout the day it kept coming to me it was Scheisters’ time to pass. I was aware it would be a labor of love, as well as my privilege, to be with him during his transition. Those words came consistently and clearly, so filled with love and compassion that I knew them to be true, even though it wasn’t what I wanted to hear.
When my vet’s office closed, I took Scheisters to the Emergency Vet Hospital so his condition could be continuously monitored throughout the night. During our ride, he again became deadly still, inviting me to face the reality of the words I had been hearing throughout the day. When I picked Scheisters up the next morning for the return trip to his regular vet, he seemed more alert and comfortable, yet he was still not himself. After discussing exploratory surgery with his vet, I vetoed the idea.
There was no change in his condition during the day. I paid a visit to him that evening, hoping that would cheer him up. I walked in to see my exuberant, mischievous seventeen-year-old darling lying inert, pale, and exhausted. I immediately knew the time was right for his passing, and that I would be his companion in this transition. Scheisters received his final shots surrounded by those who loved and cared for him. He died peacefully nestled in my arms, ending our physical journey just as we had begun our time together.
While Scheisters was no longer with me physically, I knew he was still with me spiritually and had things to tell me. Here is a portion of the communication Scheisters and I had the evening of his transition:
“It was time for me to go and time for you to let me go. I have finished my work here and I am needed on the other side…You do not have to worry about me. I am set to be free. While my body failed, my spirit is strong and ready….
I know you cry because you love me. I love you and I honor your tears, as I honor our time together. We were meant to be together during this Earth time and we have served each other well…I waited for you to return before I passed. Just as you needed to be with me, I needed to be with you. It is right that we were together at the end.”
Scheisters again came to me two months later through an animal communication for my horse, Shiloh, who was scheduled to have his eye removed. Scheisters thanked me for not making him go through the exploratory surgery. He also assured me he would be around to comfort me while my horse was in surgery. The day of the surgery I could feel his presence through a sense of peace, camaraderie and serenity.
Scheisty, this post is for you, buddy. While I still miss you, I am grateful, and I honor the time we were together. Here’s to you, bud.