Not An Ordinary Cat: BJ - 1981-2000

In 1981 my son Ben brought home a tiny grey kitten which he and his girlfriend, Jenny, had chosen out of a litter of giveaways in a cardboard box in front of the village grocery store. He told me they had named her BJ, for Ben-Jenny; and he promised he would take care of her. Yes, he did take care of her for a couple of days. Soon he and Jenny broke up - but BJ was our family cat, and that was that.
BJ had to be an outdoor kitty, with a cozy spot in the garage for sleeping, because of my husband's allergies. She was definitely one of us, though. She was a natural cat, but never a wild cat. When my youngest started kindergarten, BJ would run out to the front yard to wait with her for the little school bus. Each morning BJ would climb up the ash tree, go out on its lowest limb, and hop onto Corrie's shoulder to sit and purr until the bus arrived. When Corrie boarded the bus, BJ's "people job" was done, and she went off doing her growing-up-kitty jobs of stalking and climbing and pouncing and bathing and....And at a certain point, she got pregnant. We had intended to get her spayed, but the pregnancy and kittens came first.
Our family arrived home from an outing one afternoon and the children spotted BJ's head sticking out of an open drawer in a desk that was stored in the garage. They ran to see - and sure enough, BJ had had her babies and was washing everyone down. The kids counted, and came running out saying, "BJ had six kittens and a head!" Oh, dear. The head. We had to explain that when a kitten is born dead, the mother cat eats it up. Ah, life!
BJ and her kittens were a joy to watch. I remember working in my front flowerbed as the kittens were playing in the sunlight in front of the garage, pouncing and tumbling around together. One of the kittens stalked up to its mother, pouncing on BJ's relaxed belly. That did it! BJ pulled her baby to her firmly and licked its fur backwards until it squalled. Then she calmly groomed it the right way, purring the whole time, and settling it down.
Sadly, we discovered BJ to be a carrier of distemper. Three of her beautiful kittens developed the disease - so confusing and painful for their devoted mother, and for their human family, too. After BJ's three remaining kittens were weaned and all settled happily with their new human families, we did get BJ spayed.
Life went on - kids going through their growing times, parents going through theirs. By the time BJ was twelve, the two oldest children were off at college, and my husband and I were divorced. I was renting out rooms to make ends meet. One of my renters made a plea for BJ to be allowed to become a house cat. So BJ became an indoor-outdoor cat, and that's when her amazing abilities began to make themselves apparent.
I would be sitting at the piano composing music, and BJ would walk past - and I would notice that I had energy for some new song, a song that seemed to have cats in it. I would follow up on the energy, writing the song and singing it. This interested BJ no end. She would then climb up on my lap and purr; and sometimes, if the song was really right-on, she would hook her claws gently into my shirt right over my heart, put her mouth to my mouth, and sing along with me!
It was right around that time that I was accepted into a workshop at Esalen Institute: advanced shamanic training with Michael Harner and Sandra Ingerman. On opening night, as we all introduced ourselves, I listened with intense interest as Penelope Smith told us that she was an animal communicator. She said, "You people - you shamans - all communicate with your Power Animals. Don't you know you can communicate with your own pets?"
As the week went on I made a point of sitting with Penelope at lunch one day. I said, "You're probably going to think I'm crazy, but I think my cat is giving me ideas for songs," and I told her what was happening with BJ.
Penelope responded, "You're not crazy! My husband writes songs with our cockatiel."
After watching Penelope do a mini-session with a dog for our group, I was deeply motivated to open the ability to communicate with animals for myself. I prayed and asked for this, and I practiced with every animal I met. When I got home, BJ was waiting for me at the top of the stairs. I said out loud to her, "BJ, I think you might need a soul retrieval."
BJ looked straight into my eyes, and sent me these words: "You finally got it!"
After that, the next day, in fact, BJ joined me in my healing practice. She was, it turned out, what some people call a familiar. She worked with me and my clients for years, living to be nearly twenty. She was a master! I often felt myself to be her pupil. She was the only one of my companion animals whom I allowed free access to my human sessions. She came when Spirit moved her, and she pointed out things I would have missed. She occasionally said things which brought tears to my client - in which case, BJ would hop onto that person's lap to purr and be comforting. When that was done, BJ would leave the room.
When Corrie went off to college, Spirit moved me to Portland, Oregon. I drove from Ohio to Oregon with two dogs and three cats. During that first year there I was completely overwhelmed with the Sacred - God was talking with me, all these saints and avatars, buddhas, the works - were teaching me and giving me empowerments day and night. At the end of that time, Spirit told me that I would have to sell my house, and that my animals would find new homes. I was allowed to keep BJ. It all happened miraculously. The house was sold, the dogs and two of the cats willingly went to their next home, in a school for at-risk teens; and BJ and I moved into a little trailer in the backyard garden of a house and mom-pop printing business in the Rose City area of Portland.
There we found we were in a community of kindred spirits - and soon enough we formed an intentional community. BJ and Marble, the orange-and-white cat belonging to Sid and Marilyn Francis, owners of the property, became good friends. Marble was a philosopher, BJ was a healer, and both were a vital part of the mostly human community.
At a certain point I was called by Spirit to move to Texas. A friend offered to take BJ in, since she was too old to move a long distance again, and I didn't know how many more moves Spirit would require of me. (A lot, it turned out!). Eventually I was called back to Portland, and reunited with BJ, and also with Sid and Marilyn and Marble and the little trailer-home. By then, BJ was deaf. Once when a friend's dog came on BJ by surprise, something that never would have happened had she been able to hear, she was terrified and dashed for the trailer and would not come back out. The dog was actually really gentle, and had no intention of harming BJ; but Marble strode up to it, glared into its eyes and slapped its face. I "heard" Marble say, "You should know better than that! You were an old cat in your last life, and you were terrified of dogs!"
We had another intentional community going by then. We called ourselves Mir Cabaaning, from a word that had been given me in a dream. Our core community group was Sid, Marilyn, BJ, Marble, and I. We had many folks who came in for teachings and feasts and events. It was a beautiful spiritual growth cooperative. At each gathering, the cats were welcome and important. Marble turned out to be a philosophical comedian, with a sense of humor similar to the entity Seth (SETH SPEAKS, by Jane Roberts). BJ sometimes gaves teachings and spiritual healings.
BJ was growing old, so old. She was on arthritis medication. She had told me that she would not need a veterinarian's help in dying, as so many pets do nowadays. Although I was experienced with euthanasia, since people called on me to spiritually assist their pets as the veterinarian euthanized them, it was a relief to know that BJ would die on her own. I realized that time was near when she began refusing any food to which I had added the arthritis medication. Three days before she died, I was surrounded by a group of spirits - my relatives - who told me that they would assist BJ in crossing over when she died.
Three nights later, we were having a community meeting. BJ was lying next to the woodstove on a towel. She dragged herself out into the center of the meeting, and everyone was quiet. She looked deep into my eyes, letting me know she had something to tell the group through me. She/I spoke. One woman burst into tears - and BJ dragged herself over to a basket full of prayer cards, and pointed with her nose to the one I should give to the woman. The meeting went on, and I lost track of BJ. Then I heard a loud "Meow!" from the kitchen. It was BJ, asking me to take her back out to our trailer. Then I knew her time was near.
That night I was wakened by a loud "thump!" and turned on the light to see BJ on the floor where she had fallen, taking her last breath. I burst into tears. Then I thought - "Wait! I have to see - all these relatives - I have to see them helping her." I tuned-in clairvoyantly, and there was BJ's spirit, surrounded by all these human spirits - she was being carried by my adopted children's Korean grandpa. I was in awe, watching them start moving up a road of Light. Then a spirit squirrel scurried across in front of them and BJ's spirit leaped out of Grandpa's arms and gave chase! The squirrel led her to a place where she reconnected with my other pets who had crossed over. Then she went on, to her beloved lion-headed Egyptian goddess, Sekhmet.
That morning was a Portland winter morning - pouring down rain. Sid and Marilyn and I buried BJ with loving ceremony out under the great old apple tree, which was a sort of mother-spirit for our community. Oh, it is so sad to bury a loved one in the cold, wet ground, in the pouring rain.
I wrote a letter about BJ's life and passing, and delivered it to all who had helped her during her last years, as a thank-you, as well as mailing it out to family, and to colleagues who had benefited from BJ's teachings. BJ let me know she would be coming back into physical incarnation, to be my cat on earth again, in twelve years' time. In the meantime, her spirit occasionally shows up when I'm doing a healing, to point out something I've missed, or to give a teaching. You know, I still miss her, though. I still miss her. She was, as she told me once, not an ordinary cat.