Creature Thoughts: Jan-Feb 2023

Visiting the Past

Those who’ve walked with me for a long time may remember when the website was hosted on Blogger, and my precious Pree had her own blog. “Pree Am Siamese” was a place where my mischievous, smart, and intuitive kitty used to ask me to take dictation, so she could share her thoughts. I discovered that the archives of the blog are actually still online, and found this post.

So much has changed since April, 2009. Kai is gone now, and so many of my other dear ones, both animal and human, have also passed through the veil. I’m once again going through a difficult health time. (Had I known what the incident of the sheep would set off, for the rest of my life….)

Reading this post brought me tears, and smiles, and a lot of comfort. Then, Pree nudged me (yes, she’s still very much by my side) to let me know that there are others out there who need to hear her words.

So, our first Creature Thoughts of a new year will be to revisit a year of long ago.

Without further ado….

SUNDAY, APRIL 12, 2009

It’s Only a Body

I keep telling Mom that there is no reason we can’t talk, and write, just because I’m on the other side. Mom talks to crossed-over animals all the time. It’s one of the things she is best at, in fact — she’s helped a lot of humans adjust to the fact that their animal friends have left their bodies and entered spirit.

Why can’t she help herself?

Mom knows I love her just as much as always. And now my cat mother, Sachet, is here with me, as well. I think that might be part of why the hurt seems to have gotten bigger instead of easier to deal with. Mom keeps saying that she “lost” Sachet in January and Mavvy the bunny (who’s here and as snippy as ever) in March — but they’re not lost.

Mom’s the one who is lost.

My mom has been crying a lot lately. She got hurt in the fall, and still isn’t completely better, and it changed a lot of things in her life. And then when Sachet got so sick and had to be cared for, with Mom in a wheelchair, it was really hard. Life has completely changed since such bad things happened to her leg. I think that is part of why she cries. She always calls out to me, and to our dogs and my mother, and to her mother, and even to the bunny, when she cries. Not out loud, in her heart.

Yesterday she was really scared that she was going to “lose” Kai, too, when he ate a bunch of chocolate. He is fine, it wasn’t his time to leave, he promised that he’d keep this body for a long lifetime, and he intends to keep that promise. But Mom was scared and blamed herself because she should have known. But she didn’t even know Devon had put him in the room, and Devon didn’t know Dad had hidden chocolate in the closet and Dad didn’t know Kai was capable of getting into the spot where it was hidden.

It really was no one’s fault. Well, except for the dog, who knows he’s not supposed to steal stuff.

He’s fine. We helped keep him fine, and we were trying to keep Mom strong, though she really fell apart for a while there. Mom’s not as strong as she used to be. She said that thing about “that which doesn’t kill us makes us stronger” not long ago, but it doesn’t seem to be working that way.

But we can help. It’ll be alright.

And the dog’s okay.

Loved ones in spirit are always around, or at least aware of when they’re needed. When Mom calls for me, I hear her, and so do the rest of our family here on this side of the veil. We have our own things we need to do, lessons to learn, adventures to enjoy … but we’re never too far away to feel when someone’s heart reaches for us. We can help, though not in the same way we did when in our bodies. We can heal, for all is energy, and it’s as easy to move energy from this side as from that side. Maybe easier, although it’s still up to the person on the other end to be open to receiving.

And that is the hard part. The person on the other end. Sometimes the hurt is just so big that it blocks them from feeling us close. I wish Mom would feel us more often, and let her hurt stop throwing up walls.

I’ve wanted to write for a long time. It’s been well over a year since I died, and I haven’t written anything since. I don’t know why Mom thinks her fingers won’t work just as well as they did when I was alive, or why she thinks she won’t hear me as well. We used to talk all the time.

Well, I’m still talking.

It’s time for Mom to start listening again.