 |
| Can a big monkey find li'l kitty for rare hottie? |
Pasadena is part of Los Angeles, which is part of a giant mountainous forest called the Angeles National Forest, which is probably why it is full of coyotes (and bears, deer, rams, and man-eating lions). "Them coyot's is some wily varmints," the common wisdom goes around town. They'll pick a cat right off the street or out of a yard. It's like cats-and-dogs outside because, after all, these are felines and canines, wild or feral.
What do cats know about anything anyway?
Skulking loners and organized packs of canines lope around the streets, particularly in the foothills of Altadena and other communities, coming down in search of water, bowls of dogfood in yards, and anything on four legs wandering around at night. Coyotes will grab a human baby as quickly as a dingo would if no one is watching.
Bad Kitties worse than Good Boys?
(Cat Dog Diary) Imagine a freaked-out rescued kitten meets a fluffy puppy
 |
| Can you help me find my kitty? |
When my beautiful neighbor asked me what I thought happened to her Fitzgerald, I diverted: "It's not important what I think. What's important is how we're going to find him before it's too late."
"So you'll help me search by walking around the block for hours, calling out, 'Here, kitty-kitty"?
"No, I won't do that. It hasn't worked for you, and Fitz loves you. I was thinking we go divine."
"Go 'divine'? Kill ourselves and look for Fitzy in heaven?"
"No, of course not! Cats don't go to heaven. Everyone knows that. That's a place for dogs."
"Where do they go then?"
"Well, that's what I intend to find out through some urban shamanic divination procedures. They'll tell us were to look or reveal the whereabouts of all that remains of frisky Fitzy the coyote's Pemican."
"Coyote chow?"
"Possibly. Do you really want to know?"
"Yes, I must have closure!"
"Well, if that's all you need, Dr. Deborah King told me we can do it ourselves. We can cut the dysfunctional energetic ties that bind and give ourselves relief."
"Just find my cat...or else."
She wasn't having it -- skeptic, doubter, distruster, faithless -- so she pushed me to do the only thing I could, which was to go behind her back to meet with a pet detective, a psychic familiar with these sorts of cases.
I only asked the psychic as a favor. She offered her services, saying she had a knack for dealing with beloved pets. I showed her some photos then we took a walk around the block to see if Fitz would run out of wherever it was hiding and come to the psychic like a magnet. That's what she claimed happened before in the rescue of both a pet cat and a tortoise.
"How does anyone lose a tortoise?"
"It was stuck under the fence, which I moved in my search, and it ran to me," she explained.
Not exactly magic, but I would gladly take it in this case.
Closure came for me quickly, and I wasn't even looking. The psychic said pictures and walking were no longer even necessary. She already had a clear story to tell. Coyotes were not to blame, except to the extent that they may have scared, startled, panicked, chased, terrified, or injured Fitz, but not killed and consumed it. This 9-year-old fur baby was driving her human caretaker to distraction, and she was near insanity. But she wouldn't listen.
It was going to be a tough case because I put limits on the remote viewing protocol and told the psychic to stuff her preconceived telepathy and start answering a series of commonsense questions.
She said, "You're being too rigid."
And I said, "Yes, I am, and I want you to narrow your impressions, visions, and telepathic communications with the cat to just answering what I ask. Force yourself to only reveal a tiny slice of all that you know, none of which is being helpful. If you can find it in yourself to answer, just find it physically without answering or saying anything. Just go straight to it or, better yet, just get the cat to run out and throw itself at you like you claim the tortoise did."
She could not, so we started with a flood of potentially useable intel, which sent us across the boulevard to a cul de sac then a yard then a yard then a shack. Wouldn't you know? We poked around...and she wasn't there. She may have been there before, hiding out under the shed, but we didn't find her or any tangible proof she had been there. Now the messages began to come in more strongly. The psychic was saying the cat was alive.
How'd cat cave-dwelling pets begin?
 |
| Maybe magic and devis can locate this cat |
But one church woman was sure she could imitate its voice, and this allowed me to ask the cat questions about why it left. It answered, vaguely: "I was being smothered." That made sense, but was it any reason to leave? My neighbor says their love was mutual. Seems the cat didn't think so.
The owner of the shed wasn't home, so we could only look around the yard and come back to go through the shed, empty it, just as soon as we could get permission. I returned alone (because the psychic claimed not to be feeling well) at 10:00 pm. The owner still wasn't home, and his sympathetic neighbor couldn't grant permission for a search of it. I wandered up and down the alley, calling out, "Here kitty-kitty" like a darn fool, ending up doing what I told her was pointless. I tried reasoning with the cat, sending out my own intuitive feelers for the slightest hint.
 |
| Everything Everywhere All at Once |
The three were unrelenting, pulling me in all direction. All I could do was lope and skulk very suspiciously in an alley and around the property for an hour like a cat burglar casing a joint and hoping to catch video of the cat alive to at least have a reason to hope and continue the search. It would have been better to meet with the Council of Coyotes and ask it if any member had made off with a pretty angora calico Afghan tabby furball.
 |
| The Buddhist cats of ancient Japan |
The Buddha answered that. "Cultivate mentally-purifying calm the develop insight. When we see the true nature of things, the heart/mind, seeing the true nature of existence, automatically lets go with no effort on our part to separate. Let me repeat, we do not need to make any extra effort to relinquish. Seeing reality as it is is enough to discard and abandon everything we are consciously and unconsciously clinging to that is bringing about our suffering (dukkha).
.jpg){kind=small} |
| E. Hicks |
Abraham-Hicks (a council of 12 entities as channeled by Esther Hicks with the help of her very supportive husband Jerry) says that everything we want is downstream. Let go to get it. Stop fighting the way upstream. We are not salmon.
My friend reincarnated as a cat
She called and texted me, demanding to know if it was the coyotes who tore and devoured her precious kitty. I didn't have the heart to tell her that the truth was worse than that.
The psychic said the scared cat had been found, wandering and drained, by someone who took it in and loved it better, kept it safer, and gave it so much love that it didn't even want to return "home" now. "Home is where the heart is," everyone knows that. She pushed and pushed me, and all I could say was, "You say you don't want it, this reality we're in [where the cat is dead], but you don't, you don't really mean it. You say you won't stand for it, this circus we're in, but you don't, don't really mean it. What if the truth is worse than that?"
"Coyotes?"
"No, that's what you already think happened. You want 'closure' to accept that. What if it's worse? What if Fitz doesn't want to come back?"
"Impossible! Fitzgerald needs me, can't live without me..."
"Well, I don't know about that. Wouldn't it be worse to find out that Fitz is fine but not coming back, alive and happy but not with you?"
"What the h*ll are you talking about?! I'll break Fitz out! Who has my cat?! Who's keeping him hostage and away from me?!"
"Why are you asking me? You don't believe in cat psychics, remember? Who cares what she said? You ask me for the 'truth,' but you don't, you don't really mean it."
"Spark"
[My neighbor] she's addicted to nicotine patches
She's afraid of a light in the dark
It's 6:58 are you sure where my Spark is?
Here, here, here
She's convinced she could roll back a glacier
But she couldn't keep fluffy alive
Doubting if there's a woman in there somewhere
Here, here, here
CHORUS: You say you don't want it
(this reality we're in), again and again
But you don't, don't really mean it!
You say you don't want it, the circus we're in
But you don't, don't really mean it
You don't, don't really mean it!
If the divine Master Plan is perfection [by rebirth]
Maybe next I'll give Jewish a try
Trusting my Soul to the Ice Cream Assassin
Here, here, here
[CHORUS]
How many Fates turn around in the overtime?
Ballerinas have fins that you'll never find
You thought that you were the bomb
Yes, well so did I
[CHORUS]
She's addicted to nicotine patches
She's afraid of a light in the dark
6:58 are you sure where my Spark is?
Here, here, here
- Eds., Wisdom Quarterly, July 4, 2026 (a true story with details changed to protect the guilty and innocent, a learning experience about human nature beset by clinging and ignorance)
