Yesterday I went over to a friend’s house and spoke to another friend’s cat.  Before I saw the cat, my friend told me the cat looked like a sheet of paper.  That image stuck with me.  How could a tortie shelled cat look like a sheet of paper?  Chelsea, the cat, was outside on the cement in the hot shade by a neighbors door in the apartment complex.  She was so petite and thin, the first thing I said to myself was, “oh my, she does look like a sheet of paper.”  She purred and let me pet her.  I only pet her head because I feared the weight of my hand on her frail body might hurt her.  I told her she should go to heaven and that when she is sleeping she might feel a pulling sensation out of her body and it was ok to go because I know she will feel better on the other side.  She told me she had felt that sensation before and maybe she would go tonight.  I thought to myself, “Wouldnt that be great if she went tonight after I got to talk to her.”  Then she said she wanted to be in a room alone.  She normally slept outside and she said she wanted her owner to hold her when she went.  My friend told my other friend what Chelsea said and that night Chelsea slept inside alone in the bathroom.  Around four a clock in the morning my friend awoke because she felt Chelsea was calling her. She went into the bathroom. Chelsea was struggling to breathe.  She wrapped in a sheet to warm her and Chelsea died peacefully in her arms.

The next morning my friend called me to tell me the news and to ask me to ask Chelsea what she wanted done with her body and Chelsea told me and my friend made it happened and my friend said prayers for Chelsea.  My friend felt comfort because Chelsea dead body looked like she was sleeping.  Chelsea also said that she was thankful that her person put her alone in the room and heard her when she was calling her.  Chelsea talked about how young she felt on the other side.

This morning I heard a good horse friend of mine died.  Hawkeye.  He had a rough start and was very abused.  He would throw off a multitude of riders.  Many years ago his trainer / person would have me talk to him about his fears and I was there the first time my trainer rode him.   I was talking to him telling him he was safe and nothing would hurt him.  We were in a small round pen and he was very fearful because he could not see well out of one eye.   I have witnessed him in a herd of mustangs playing and romping and rolling in the dirt.  I have seen him with young riders on him and have ridden him myself into to wells canyon.  galloping up the hill that looks through the valleys.  I have ridden him on moon lite nights under the stars with my hands freezing from the cold and mountain lion eyes glaring at us from the tree tops.

My friends will be greatly missed.

Today I witnessed a party of people lying and heard something so malice come from their mouths that I wispered, “Your heartless” with out thinking.  It took me till tonight to process that I actually thought of someone to be “heartless”.   Where was my compassion? I think now.  Where is my compassion now I still ponder?

I lied on the bed this evening with my animals snuggled up to me and thanked the universe for the life I have created.  I have good friends who tell the truth, a house full of companions (all four-legged), a family who loves me and the best job in the world.