Fine Either Way
Saturday morning started with a minor heated discussion with my sweetie about the cleaning routine in the house. It was with that frustrated vibe flowing that I checked in on the foster kitties.
One of them looked .. mm, not so fabulous. His siblings were perky and playing, but this guy was lethargic and unresponsive.
I thought it could be low blood sugar, but my syrup solution didn’t help.
“Relax,” I told myself. Maybe it needs more time to work. Take a shower in the meantime in case you need to run him to the vet.
Fifteen minutes later he looked even worse. And this time I noticed vomit on the blanket.
The symptoms pointed to distemper – incredibly deadly for kittens. The incubation time would have been right, the vomiting, the sudden decline, unresponsive to sugar … definitely not good.
I expected the vet would be busy on a Saturday, but would squeeze me in. They were, but they did.
(I didn’t see until later that my frustration, fear, and expectation to see the vet played into the unfolding situation.)
On the drive over, tears welled up while prepping that this guy might very well be taking a trip to euthanization, and that his siblings might follow suit.
That overwhelming negative emotion clued me in to getting deliberate.
I didn’t want to go with fearful expectations. I would at least shift the energy so I didn’t contribute to a “bad” outcome.
If he wanted to go, he could go – but it wouldn’t be surrounded with my worry and heartbreak. I would escort him with peace, love and acceptance.
It sounded good, anyway.
That’s the first step, though – becoming aware & knowing what I want.
The turnaround started with telling myself that “death isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
That thought made me smile.
Who could blame him for choosing to be here for just four short weeks? Surely that’s the BEST time of all – he had a doting mother who kept him warm, well fed and clean; two fabulous siblings to play with. Plus, he altered the lives of many people – directly and indirectly.
He did good work, had a great time – who could fault him for breezing out now? I could understand that.
And with that understanding, relief came.
With that bit of relief, I leveraged a little more.
Plus, how do I know he’s going to die, anyway? Maybe this is no big deal!
And even if he does die, maybe his brothers will be fine.
Ahhh … even MORE relief with that line of thinking.
So we’re on our way to the best vet in the state. This kitty will get every chance there is to heal.
Now it’s my time to detach from needing him to heal.
“I’m okay either way.” I practiced that thought a couple times in order to start to feel it. What would it feel like to be okay with his death?
Bobby Pinson’s chorus “I’m Fine Either Way” came to mind.
I felt myself releasing attachment to the outcome, and sprinkled on some additionally supportive thoughts. “He had a great life if he goes now – you can’t feel bad about that. And if he stays, it’s a miracle. I’m fine either way!”
As I chose a parking spot at the vet’s office, I thought I better pick one that’ll be easy to pull out of in case I’m a big mess of tears from walking out without my kitten.
And I was okay with the thought of being sad.
It’s okay to be sad.
Once inside the vet’s office, kitty got a quick escort to the back.
Sitting in the lobby gave me time to get okay again with whatever he wanted to do. He could stay; he could go; I was doing all I could on my end action-wise, and I was surely going to do it vibration-wise too.
So how could I feel better?
I struck up conversation with other clients in the lobby. One woman admired another client’s handsome hound dog. She talked about her own hound dog mix back at home. An older gentleman said his cat was in for radiation therapy. One of my cats had it as well, so I knew how expensive it was. He said he might have to live in a “Tough Shed,” but his 8 year old cat would get the treatment he needed. Lots of love in this room.
The lobby also had a cat tower with five foster cats up for adoption.
I said hello to Susie, a friendly young feline whose legs and back were broken when her owner started the car engine she was sleeping on. It’s hard not to feel good when you’re seeing a living miracle before your very eyes. Not just that she survived that accident, but somehow made it to a vet where someone cared enough to cover the bill and put her up for adoption?! And she’s still friendly through all of that?!
Pure and simple.
They’re all around – these miracles.
In fact, here comes my favorite vet, Dr. H, to say hello. Just a friendly visit, he’s not working on my kitty. He asks how I am, I say fine. He says, “Better than your kitty.” I know, looks like distemper.
Dr. H says, actually the test came back negative.
“Negative for distemper?!”
Right. Negative for distemper, he repeats.
It felt like an out of body experience in that very moment! Because I know if it’s not distemper, my kitty will be fine!
It’s a miracle! At least, feels like one to me.
Two hours later back at home he’s looking so much better I have trouble figuring out which one he is. Oh, the syrup-sticky mouth guy – that’s him. Playing with his brother’s tail.
Looking as if nothing was ever wrong. We still don’t know what it was.
I recognize, I really AM fine either way. AND … it’s great to have him here.
If I can get to “allowing” on this situation – I can get there on anything.
And although I have no idea what part my vibe played in kitty’s life or death experience, I’m at least sure that by managing my vibration I didn’t make things worse.