Goodnight, Sweet Prince

We had to send our cat Merlin to the Otherworld a few days ago. My husband and I are devastated. He was a good, sweet boy and we loved him dearly.

It was a rough way to start Mother’s Day weekend, losing another furry feline son.

Merlin had a tumor the size of my thumb in his colon wall (something I had forgotten was suggested in all of the confusion from his last vet visit, and the vet could now feel clearly since there was no impacted poop or inflammation in his colon this time), and we believe it may have metastasized and was causing his left leg problem that started a week or so ago. He had lost another 1.5 pounds since his last vet visit. He was dehydrated and pale, and with that and the increasing kidney failure against him, we made the hard decision to help him cross the Rainbow Bridge to the Happy Hunting Ground in the sky, where he joins his brother Ted in hunting and catching as many “meeces” as their little hearts desire.

We brought him home in the rain. Not in any hurry to say our last goodbye, and also pragmatically avoiding the soaking we might otherwise get, we allowed his body to lay in state in a little cardboard coffin-like box on the dining room table until the pouring rain reduced to a drizzle that evening. We buried him next to Teddy Morris (who crossed over on October 1st) just before dark with the honoring ceremony afforded to all our Beloveds when they go.

Goodnight, Sweet Prince.

The ceremony included sage and songs of spirit. And in the “can’t make this shit up” category, a very silent catbird (I dunno if you know, but catbirds are *never* silent) sitting above the grave in the tree, listening as I sang. Never said a word. Respectful silence.

Merlin was rarely silent, too. He was a very vocal guy, certainly with some Siamese heritage. But like the catbird, silent now.

When it was done, the catbird flew off and I could hear him sending out his mewing call from another tree.

I was reflecting this morning about how Merlin had changed so much from when he first came here as a rescued feral cat at 2 years old. How he went from being a ‘Fraidy Cat to being my cuddly stalker. He went from being a cat who would run and hide in fear if I laughed to a guy who would wait for me to close my laptop computer so he could run and get in my lap before I could move (and his opportunity to get cuddles would be lost).

He would stare at me from afar with adoration; I can’t begin to tell you how many times I would look up from something I was doing and there he would be, just sitting in a strategic place and gazing at me with intense love. I would squint my eyes at him (like cats do), he would squint back, and that was an exchange that we both knew meant “I love you and all is well.”

Squinty eyes and squinty heart.

Puddin’ Paws and Rabbit Feet.

Like Merlin, they all change when they come to live with us, it seems. The cats, dogs, deer, rabbits, horses. Even birds. People say to me all the time that the animals we share our lives with are “characters” with such personalities! Indeed, they are. This sanctuary heals them, heals their hearts and their beautiful souls so that they can become who they were meant to be.

We allow that. We allow them to be themselves, providing the love that helps them become who they always were — to blossom into the selves Spirit intended them to be. And, like with Merlin, that love is always, always returned to us tenfold.

We provide sanctuary to everyone who comes here, both human and other-than-human, whether for an hour or a lifetime. After all, a place where you can feel safe and respected, with people that you can trust, is how healing begins.

Merlin was just one example of what love can do. He will be deeply missed.