The Reincarnation of Paco to Spirit to Light
SPIRIT
Throughout the years, my mom had many pets. She took in strays all the time. She had a teacup poodle named Paco, a parrot named David, a Cockatoo named Jerry, tropical fish, and too many cats to name (not all at the same time). Mom also took in stray children. She fed the children in the neighborhood whose mothers did not feed them, and she took others under her wing and made sure they were safe, sometimes giving them room and board. Mom could not turn away any living thing.
When she decided to leave New York to live in North Carolina, I inherited Paco, a white, five-pound, Zen little guy, sweet and loving. I adored him. Paco had quirky behavior. Whenever I was reclining, he immediately made himself comfortable on either my hip or my chest. He would never pee and poop in the same place. He was house trained and street trained. If he went in the apartment, he peed on one piece of paper and pooped on another. If he went in the street, he’d pee anywhere, but he would only poop under a car. He was tiny and could easily walk under a car. He was fussy about what he ate and would not eat dog food. Paco could not jump from the floor to the couch or even from the coffee table to the couch, no more than a foot away, without a lot of hesitating and numerous attempts. He would eventually succeed, usually out of breath but triumphant. Paco sashayed when he walked and looked as if he were dancing. People on the street used to comment on his walk, which was really cute. One time a businessman, briefcase in hand, came up behind me and started talking baby talk to Paco, because he was so enthralled with Paco’s gait. That’s how cute Paco was. Paco never licked me or anyone else, but I wanted kisses from him, so I put a lollipop in front of him one day and he sniffed it and then licked it. That was the unwitting beginning of an obsessive compulsive licking disorder. After that, whenever anyone picked Paco up, he licked the person compulsively, making both the person and me uncomfortable. The licking was so intense that it seemed almost sexual.
I took him for his first grooming to a place called "People Training for Dogs," located on the upper west side of Manhattan. They tortured him in that grooming. The owner bragged about not using electric clippers and said that they only used scissors and an implement that looked like an afro pick to get knots out. I dropped him off in the morning on my way to work and picked him up in the evening. I was horrified when I saw him. They had pulled his hair out from the follicle with that implement. He had no hair at all on his body. He was pink, just skin, no hair. Only his face still had hair. He was angry and snarled at me. I was horrified and refused to pay them the $75 they wanted. I put him inside my coat and immediately took him to the vet, who was also horrified and asked me what had happened. He was in disbelief. He gave Paco a shot and said that he hoped his hair would grow back. It never did and that meant that Paco had no undercoat. He developed terrible skin conditions without that protective coat and eventually his heart weakened.
Paco lived only two more years, still fairly young. I woke up at 3 a.m. one morning to find him hidden behind my bed, struggling to breathe. I called a neighbor, who immediately agreed to drive me to the Animal Medical Center. During the drive, Paco was gasping for breath and his body was limp. When I arrived, they took us right in. The vet told me to go home, that Paco was critical and they were not sure that they could save him, but they would do all that they could. I left distraught. The next morning I received a call from the vet, telling me that Paco had passed away during the night, that he had rallied, and then finally gave up. I was devastated and felt responsible for his death because I chose the groomer and was convinced that the tortured grooming he received caused all of his health issues thereafter. It took me almost 18 months before I stopped spontaneously crying every time I found something of his around my apartment. I decided then and there that I would get no more pets. It was too painful when they died.
Some years later, my mom moved from North Carolina to Florida and immediately went to the pound and adopted a cat she named Precious. About three years later, mom called and asked me to take Precious home with me to New York. She explained that my brother, who had moved in with her, had two seventeen-pound-cats, Ebenezer and Babette, and Babette, the female, constantly attacked Precious. Mom had to keep Precious in a cage whenever Babette was around and she said that was no way for a cat to live. I hadn’t been to Florida since mom had moved there and a visit was way overdue.
Paco lived only two more years, still fairly young. I woke up at 3 a.m. one morning to find him hidden behind my bed, struggling to breathe. I called a neighbor, who immediately agreed to drive me to the Animal Medical Center. During the drive, Paco was gasping for breath and his body was limp. When I arrived, they took us right in. The vet told me to go home, that Paco was critical and they were not sure that they could save him, but they would do all that they could. I left distraught. The next morning I received a call from the vet, telling me that Paco had passed away during the night, that he had rallied, and then finally gave up. I was devastated and felt responsible for his death because I chose the groomer and was convinced that the tortured grooming he received caused all of his health issues thereafter. It took me almost 18 months before I stopped spontaneously crying every time I found something of his around my apartment. I decided then and there that I would get no more pets. It was too painful when they died.
Some years later, my mom moved from North Carolina to Florida and immediately went to the pound and adopted a cat she named Precious. About three years later, mom called and asked me to take Precious home with me to New York. She explained that my brother, who had moved in with her, had two seventeen-pound-cats, Ebenezer and Babette, and Babette, the female, constantly attacked Precious. Mom had to keep Precious in a cage whenever Babette was around and she said that was no way for a cat to live. I hadn’t been to Florida since mom had moved there and a visit was way overdue.
I flew to Florida, and when I entered my mom’s place, I was immediately drawn to Precious, who was sitting in the window. She was beautiful, petite at five pounds, with a long silky white coat and gold eyes. She was a Persian and looked like the Friskies cat on T.V. I said, “Mom you didn’t tell me she was so beautiful.” Mom said that she had, but that I wasn’t listening because I was afraid of cats, which was true. For some reason, I was not afraid of this cat. At the end of the week, I went home with Precious in hand. I paid $50 extra to carry her under my seat on the plane. When I brought Precious into my apartment, she ran and hid under my bed. It was a new place and she was frightened. I called to her repeatedly but she would not come from under the bed. Finally, I thought, “I really do not like that name, Precious. I just can’t call a cat of mine, Precious. So what can I call her?” Suddenly I said, “Spirit, come here,” and immediately she came out from under my bed and sat at my feet. From that point on, she responded only to Spirit.
Life with Spirit was intriguing. She was a Zen cat, who never meowed, and whose poop never smelled. When people entered my apartment, they had no idea I had a cat even though Spirit’s litter box was in a corner of my living room. She never regurgitated hairballs, which was highly unusual since she was a longhaired cat. She responded to commands such as “lie down” or “sit,” even though I had never taught them to her, and she came whenever I called her, which I understand is unusual for cats. Whenever I reclined, Spirit sat on my hip or my chest. She liked no brand of wet cat food (I fed her baby food for wet food, but she ate any kind of dry cat food), and she exhibited no cat-like behavior. She was more like a dog. She was a "licker," and whenever she wanted to jump from the couch to the coffee table, she hesitated, contemplated the distance, hesitated some more and then finally jumped. She did that no matter where she needed to jump. I would always remind her that she was a cat and should know how to jump. Over time, with sheer concentration and determination she learned to jump onto my window seat and my bed.
One other interesting thing about Spirit was that people who were allergic to cats were not allergic to her. I had a friend whose allergies were so severe that she had to stay at a hotel whenever she visited her cousin, who had a cat. Yet, when this friend came to visit me, she slept with Spirit. I was at a psychic seminar once and another of my friends asked why she was not allergic to Spirit when she was allergic to every other cat. The psychic, who was channeling at the time, said that Spirit could control her dander and duplicate the vibration of those around her. I believed it because even my nephew, who has asthma and is allergic to cats, was not allergic to Spirit. I was also told that Spirit was an “Adjuster in dwellings.” I had never heard of such a thing and it never occurred to me to ask what that was. About three years later, I overheard a conversation about a book called The Urantia Book. I was curious about it and a friend said that I could have her copy. When I received the book, I was overwhelmed by its size. It was almost 2100 pages and the print was miniscule. One day, while thumbing through the book, I randomly opened it to a chapter entitled “Thought Adjusters Indwellings.” I couldn’t believe it. Here’s some of what it said, “Adjusters are encountered in creature experience; they disclose the presence and leading of a spirit influence. The Adjuster is indeed a spirit, pure spirit, but spirit plus.” So much more is written, but it would freak some people out. Let’s just say it is no coincidence that I named my cat Spirit, although mom was not too far off when she named her Precious, for she was a Precious Spirit.
One day, as Spirit was sitting on my hip, a thought came to me, “Spirit was a lot like Paco.” She was the same color, weighed the same, and had the same habits (all that hesitating when she wanted to jump onto something, always sleeping on my chest or hip). I was convinced that Paco had returned as Spirit. When I asked Spirit if she was Paco, she looked into my eyes and then put her forehead into the palm of my hand and left it there for 45 minutes, as if to say, “Finally.” Spirit was a tiny cat, and her entire head fit into the palm of my hand. I felt an even flow of energy run from my palm to my heart whenever she did that. I had long conversations with Spirit and whenever I did, she placed her forehead or third eye into the palm of my hand for extended periods of a half hour to 45 minutes. I would always receive a thought or an idea when she did that.
Over the years, Spirit occasionally disappeared in my apartment for long periods of time up to eight or nine hours. I would search for her with no luck. I live in 782 square feet, so the possible places for her to hide were few. I checked every closet, behind every door and piece of furniture, in every nook and cranny, but she just was nowhere to be found. When she did show up again, I never understood where she had been, but she always looked refreshed and new, like a kitten. Many years later, my mom came to live with me. She too got used to Spirit’s lengthy disappearances. One time, we were both sitting on the love seat talking about the fact that Spirit had not appeared for about nine hours. I was concerned. Mom and I were looking toward the front door when suddenly Spirit popped into the foyer out of nowhere. She literally hadn’t come from anywhere. She was just there and it happened in front of our eyes. Mom and I looked at each other, and mom finally said, “Did you see that?” I said, “Yes,” and she said, “She just poofed out of thin air. Don’t tell anyone. They’ll think we’re nuts.” I knew we weren’t nuts. Spirit was special. Over the years, Spirit disappeared for hours and sometimes days and I stopped worrying and looking for her because she always showed up, usually looking younger and cleaner than when she disappeared. Mom and I used to say that Spirit went to another dimension for a lube job.
Spirit rarely, if ever, got sick, but when she did, her sickness always seemed tied to me in some way. One time, she had been vomiting excessively, was hiding behind my bed, and would neither drink nor eat. Four days had gone by before I decided to take her to the vet, who said that he could find nothing wrong with her but that she appeared to be dying. He told me to take her home and if it continued, to bring her in again. He might have to put her down. I was heartbroken. I took her home and after the seventh day of hiding and no eating or drinking, I asked a friend to do an automatic writing to determine what was going on with Spirit. The writing indicated that Spirit was trying to show me what would happen if I did not get off the couch and go outside. I had retired and found myself staying in the apartment and rarely if ever going outside. I was healing from a lot of small physical problems I had while I was working. The physical symptoms had cleared up about a month after I left work, but I was not motivated to go outside and do anything. Anyway, the next day I went to the park for about an hour, and when I returned, Spirit came out from behind the bed, drank some water and returned to her hiding place. The following day, I went out again for about two hours, and when I returned, Spirit came out from behind the bed, ate some food and drank some water. By the fourth day of my going out, Spirit came out from behind the bed for good. All the vomit that had been caked up on her coat was gone, as if it had never been there, and she was acting “normal.” She seemed like a kitten in every way, a very Zen kitten though. Each time that Spirit got sick, I took her to the vet and all her tests came out normal, but if I changed something I was doing for myself, she got better quickly. After a while, I stopped taking her to the vet when she appeared “sick.” Instead, I examined my behavior, and when I discovered something that needed to change and changed it, Spirit got better. That is not to say that she never seemed to be truly sick. She was prone to upper respiratory infections, something that had nothing to do with me. I could never figure out why she had them until years later.
Spirit rarely, if ever, got sick, but when she did, her sickness always seemed tied to me in some way. One time, she had been vomiting excessively, was hiding behind my bed, and would neither drink nor eat. Four days had gone by before I decided to take her to the vet, who said that he could find nothing wrong with her but that she appeared to be dying. He told me to take her home and if it continued, to bring her in again. He might have to put her down. I was heartbroken. I took her home and after the seventh day of hiding and no eating or drinking, I asked a friend to do an automatic writing to determine what was going on with Spirit. The writing indicated that Spirit was trying to show me what would happen if I did not get off the couch and go outside. I had retired and found myself staying in the apartment and rarely if ever going outside. I was healing from a lot of small physical problems I had while I was working. The physical symptoms had cleared up about a month after I left work, but I was not motivated to go outside and do anything. Anyway, the next day I went to the park for about an hour, and when I returned, Spirit came out from behind the bed, drank some water and returned to her hiding place. The following day, I went out again for about two hours, and when I returned, Spirit came out from behind the bed, ate some food and drank some water. By the fourth day of my going out, Spirit came out from behind the bed for good. All the vomit that had been caked up on her coat was gone, as if it had never been there, and she was acting “normal.” She seemed like a kitten in every way, a very Zen kitten though. Each time that Spirit got sick, I took her to the vet and all her tests came out normal, but if I changed something I was doing for myself, she got better quickly. After a while, I stopped taking her to the vet when she appeared “sick.” Instead, I examined my behavior, and when I discovered something that needed to change and changed it, Spirit got better. That is not to say that she never seemed to be truly sick. She was prone to upper respiratory infections, something that had nothing to do with me. I could never figure out why she had them until years later.
I found out that Spirit had a congenital diaphragmatic hernia. All her organs were in the wrong place pushed up against each other behind a hernia that seemed to take up her entire body cavity. On an X-ray, you could see none of her organs, except for her small intestines. By all accounts, Spirit should not have lived as long as she did. She had lived over 27 years with the hernia and had somehow acclimated to it. Some would say that the hernia was probably responsible for all of her “sicknesses,” but I know better. That hernia was responsible for her upper respiratory infections, her meager appetite, her diminutive size, and her inability to breathe properly, but not the mysterious “illnesses” that seemed tied to my behavior. The only time Spirit ever vomited was when she was hiding behind my bed that one time, waiting for me to go outside. Spirit passed away in June 2011. The hernia finally compressed her heart and lungs to the point where breathing was laborious. She had lost weight, was weak, cold not stand without falling to the side, and could not eat enough to keep her alive. I was floored by the fact that despite her weakened condition she was able to somehow jump onto the window seat in the living room and onto my bed. I woke up at 3 a.m. the night before I took her in to be put down because she had jumped up onto my bed and howled in my ear. I asked her how she was able to do that. She just sat at the foot of my bed. When I finally got up later that morning, she was sitting on the window seat in the living room. When she saw me, she jumped down and started to walk but fell over to the side. I knew it was time. I had no choice but to have her humanely euthanized. The experience was heartbreaking but kind and gentle too. The vet assured me that I was making a compassionate decision. She explained the entire procedure, had someone bring in a quilt to make Spirit comfortable, and left so that I could talk to Spirit alone. When the vet came back into the room, she explained that Spirit would receive anesthesia, as if she were having surgery, that it would knock her out, which it immediately did, and then afterward she would be given the drug that would send her peacefully into another realm of consciousness. As the final drug entered Spirit's little body, her breathing ceased and she was gone. I always have this vision of those who die leaving like a shooting star into a boundless sky to more happiness than we can imagine.
I grieved for Spirit about as intensely as I did for my mom when she passed over in 2006. The first night after Spirit left this plane of consciousness, I was in bed and felt a huge energy envelope me. Then I felt a small impression on my bed. I knew it was Spirit checking up on me. The next day my neighbor gave me an orchid plant as a gift of condolence. It had not yet blossomed. It was two long stalks with buds on it, beautiful in its nakedness. I set it upon the dining room table and turned to go to my living room. As I bent to sit on the couch, I had a view of the orchid plant. All the buds had opened simultaneously in less than 30 seconds. I smiled broadly. “Spirit,” I said, “Thank you for showing me that the spirit truly is eternal.”
I grieved for Spirit about as intensely as I did for my mom when she passed over in 2006. The first night after Spirit left this plane of consciousness, I was in bed and felt a huge energy envelope me. Then I felt a small impression on my bed. I knew it was Spirit checking up on me. The next day my neighbor gave me an orchid plant as a gift of condolence. It had not yet blossomed. It was two long stalks with buds on it, beautiful in its nakedness. I set it upon the dining room table and turned to go to my living room. As I bent to sit on the couch, I had a view of the orchid plant. All the buds had opened simultaneously in less than 30 seconds. I smiled broadly. “Spirit,” I said, “Thank you for showing me that the spirit truly is eternal.”
Our pets love us unconditionally. They never complain about our behavior and they forgive our every omission and indiscretion. They are the epitome of what this journey is all about—LOVE, pure and unadulterated. Some would say that I can never replace Spirit, but I believed that she would come back to me ready to continue the journey, just as she did when she finished as Paco. Mom, if you’re listening, I expect you to send me another Adjuster when I am ready, but this time with no hernia and in a body that I can recognize.
In June of 2011, I adopted a cat I saw on the Internet. She was a rescue. I watched her on the petfinder website for a few weeks, haunted by her striking resemblance to Spirit. I had this gut feeling that it was indeed my girl. I thought perhaps she had walked into another cat body, because this cat was two years old. I inquired about adopting her, but was told that the woman who rescued her never sends her cats out of state. This cat was in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida. It was no coincidence that Spirit was rescued in Ft. Lauderdale too. This cat was a doll face Persian (just like Spirit), had a silver coat, and was the same color and had similar markings as Spirit. One of my clients, feeling that this cat was Spirit, said that he would pay the adoption fees and for the flight to New York. So, on June 10, 2011, I went to Newark Airport to retrieve this beautiful formerly abused cat that I named Light because she had so much fear. I thought the energy of the name would help counteract the fear. She responds to Light, and Spirit, which I absentmindedly call her every now and then. When Spirit was alive, the same channeled entity who told me that she was an adjuster in dwellings, told me that she was "on vacation" this lifetime. That meant that Spirit entered this lifetime as pure spirit with no fear. It was true. She feared nothing, no human or animal, including dogs, and she sat in the lap of anyone who entered the apartment. I was told that she would return to me, but this time she would do the third-dimensional journey and travel from fear to love. Light is fearful because she was an abused cat and her trust level is lacking. She is fine with me but at the time of this writing she is still fearful of strangers. She has all of Spirit's habits and idiosyncrasies though. I know that she will come around fully because we are in the middle of a Shift in Consciousness, and Light is bound to find her Spirit.
In June of 2011, I adopted a cat I saw on the Internet. She was a rescue. I watched her on the petfinder website for a few weeks, haunted by her striking resemblance to Spirit. I had this gut feeling that it was indeed my girl. I thought perhaps she had walked into another cat body, because this cat was two years old. I inquired about adopting her, but was told that the woman who rescued her never sends her cats out of state. This cat was in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida. It was no coincidence that Spirit was rescued in Ft. Lauderdale too. This cat was a doll face Persian (just like Spirit), had a silver coat, and was the same color and had similar markings as Spirit. One of my clients, feeling that this cat was Spirit, said that he would pay the adoption fees and for the flight to New York. So, on June 10, 2011, I went to Newark Airport to retrieve this beautiful formerly abused cat that I named Light because she had so much fear. I thought the energy of the name would help counteract the fear. She responds to Light, and Spirit, which I absentmindedly call her every now and then. When Spirit was alive, the same channeled entity who told me that she was an adjuster in dwellings, told me that she was "on vacation" this lifetime. That meant that Spirit entered this lifetime as pure spirit with no fear. It was true. She feared nothing, no human or animal, including dogs, and she sat in the lap of anyone who entered the apartment. I was told that she would return to me, but this time she would do the third-dimensional journey and travel from fear to love. Light is fearful because she was an abused cat and her trust level is lacking. She is fine with me but at the time of this writing she is still fearful of strangers. She has all of Spirit's habits and idiosyncrasies though. I know that she will come around fully because we are in the middle of a Shift in Consciousness, and Light is bound to find her Spirit.
My New Cat, Light
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