Sami came into our lives ten years ago. We adopted this pretty, female tortoiseshell cat when my daughter fell in love with her at a pet store. Her home was among those scheduled for demolition as part of a growing trend toward green communities.
Sami quickly bonded with my daughter, thriving on all the love and attention lavished upon her. Over the next four years, Sami would take up residence at the neighborhood “cat hous,” join us in a move to a new home, and eventually elect to live in the garage.
I thought a lot about Sami. She seemed to enjoy the time she spent with us. I had never experienced such an “on again, off-again” relationship with an animal. I didn’t understand Sami’s scars and preference for animals over people in these early days. She taught me to accept her on her terms.
It was November of 2009 when an unexpected storm struck Seattle. We were startled by the crash of thunder. As lightning lit up the dark sky in violent eruptions, Sami ran though the pet door out into the storm.
Two days later, an animal communicator informed me Sami was locked in a nearby neighborhood garage. She provided detailed descriptions of alleys and her surroundings. It was the week before Thanksgiving. On day three, I was advised Sami’s body was shutting down and it was unlikely she could make it through another exceptionally cold night.
I searched the neighborhood yet again with flyers, pleading with neighbors to check their garages. I drove along the surrounding streets until nightfall forced me to call off my search, then pulled off the road and wept.
I returned home heartbroken, knowing Sami would die alone, cold, and hungry. I received confirmation from the animal communicator the next morning; Sami was no longer in her body.
It was Thanksgiving Day and I was preparing the traditional annual feast when I heard an urgent “Mom!” I turned to see my daughter holding a very dirty Sami. The shock on her face matched my own.
When I relayed this information to the animal communicator, she said she had “never seen anything like this!” We were confused, but very happy to have her back. We would later learn Sami dashed out of an elderly neighbor’s garage after visiting relatives opened the door on Thanksgiving Day.
Two years later during an acupuncture session, I asked about the two Russian Blue cats sleeping in the room. I learned they were assisting and also gave great advice. After an insightful conversation, these “healing cats” commented they “really liked my cat.” I thanked them, not certain what that meant.
Repeating their comment to Sami later; she asked, “Who do you think helped me come back to you when I was locked in the neighbor’s garage?” She explained after she crossed over, she recognized she was not a very loving cat; then decided to come back as a loving kitten to a new family. It was then she was shown she had a family that loved her. With help from her new cat friends, Sami returned to us on that Thanksgiving Day in 2009.
This was the beginning of a new life for Sami. She came back with a new knowledge, wisdom, and ability to heal.
I learned through my own readings with animals that there is an entire network of “healing cats” who not only help their families and animals in the household, but are part of a higher, healing consciousness available to those in need.
It surprised me that Sami took as much reiki healing as she did. She informed me she only took what she needed, then sent the rest of the reiki to the animals in the neighborhood. She communicated that there were many animals living all around us who were frightened by unfamiliar noises and energy.
I grew increasingly concerned when I realized Sami was taking on my King Charles Spaniel’s medical issues. I could see it was impacting her health. She assured me this was their agreement and it would be over soon, saying “Things are as they’re supposed to be.”
This week, Sami was diagnosed with cancer. It’s a very aggressive tumor usually found in dogs. Its location and advanced stage make it inoperable. The onset of the tumor correlates with the start of their agreement. It is estimated Sami has a couple of weeks to live.
In speaking with Sami, she expresses she’s “preparing for her homecoming. It’s a celebration, a merging of me/myself. A coming together with the one you love. In this case, it’s me! That piece of me I left behind. It’s a sunbath of light, coming in to heal me.” She talks about colors; vibrant colors we haven’t seen here. I see images of a light show she takes pleasure in.
Sami continues: “I’ve done this before. I found the Light. I looked at my life. I know why I came back. I learned to be a loving cat. I learned to be a healer. I’ve affected the masses. I worked with a healing community and other dimensions.”
She shares it was a big lesson for her to trust us, love us, and let us in. Sami lived two different lives while embodying one cat. When I tell Sami I’ll miss her, she’s true to her personality and in her usual nonchalant manner asks, “Why? I did my due diligence”!
Now, I watch Sami enjoying the soft breeze and sounds of nature behind the screen door while resting in her crate. I feel her absorbing the earth as it speaks to her in this final chapter.
I’m reminded that all living beings have a plan and timing that is perfect for them in life and death. Sami asks I trust this innate wisdom. I thank her for being in my life, then feel her happy anticipation to join loved ones and the celebration back Home.