How Lucy opened my eyes to animals being more than companions

Lucy

Lucy and I had seventeen incredible years together. In that time, we worked on many lessons. Some I think I learned, and others I’m still working on.

It was she and I against the world. Together, we battled against an issue with her liver, which included her having to be on a feeding tube for months. At the same time, I had appendicitis. My appendix burst, and I was taken in for emergency surgery. My biggest worry was someone being with Lucy to make sure she was fed at the appropriate times.

I got home to her as soon as I could. As I began to get better, she developed an infection. I feared she wasn’t strong enough to fight it. She was given antibiotics, and to my relief, she responded well. So well in fact, that she ate the food I always kept out in hopes she’d eat on her own.

I was ecstatic! I sat at a distance and quietly watched. I tried not to get too excited. It was only once; would she do it again? She continued to eat regularly for several days, and it was enough that I felt confident we didn’t need to use the feeding tube. I called her doctor and made an appointment. They were shocked, too. We had been considering having the feeding tube permanently placed; this was an incredible turnaround. Lucy and I continued to recover together. She never stopped fighting, and I never gave up on her. This experience bonded us in such an extraordinary way. She had begun to open my eyes to the possibility that there was more to our relationship than companionship.

We continued our adventures, moving across the country twice. We grieved her brother, Otis, another amazing animal who provided so much love and happiness. She even alerted me to a cheating boyfriend by peeing on his things. This was so out of character; she was making sure I understood something wasn’t right.

She’d want me to set the record straight; this was the only time in her life she stooped to anything of this nature. She was a princess and obsessed with cleanliness. She even trained me early on that I was expected to clean out her box every time she used it…no excuses. I was young and on a budget, but I invested in a self-cleaning cat box.

Lucy was the one constant in my life and was absolutely everything to me. Losing her left me heartbroken. I had lost my best friend, the one who comforted me when I needed it, listened to my secrets, and brought me so much happiness.

The day we said goodbye, I was inconsolable. I knew it was time, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. I left all of her things where they were trying to keep her close. The next morning, there were three pieces of food sitting outside of her bowl. They were evenly spaced and in a straight line directly in front of her bowl, making it the first thing I’d see when I walked into the kitchen. She was letting me know she was with her brother and sister, and they were all still with me.

After a few days, the communication stopped, but I was pulled to go to the shelter. My husband and I walked around and visited with many cats, but none seemed like they were the right one. I was disappointed and left without adopting anyone. I thought maybe I wasn’t ready, but the next day I was again pulled to go to the shelter. So, my husband and I returned.

There was a new cat there that had been returned after we had left the day before. He had allegedly bitten his new adopted mother, and she brought him back. Everything happens for a reason! Shadow, a big, sweet tuxedo with a limp, approached me, circling my legs and asking to be pet. I picked him up, and he climbed up to my shoulder. In that moment, I knew he was the one. I believe Lucy orchestrated this as my next step towards being an animal communicator.