The other day in my kitchen while making sugar water for hummingbirds, I suddenly heard a loud, strange noise come from the bay window area off my living room. I stepped around the island bar that separates my kitchen and living room, and noticed a screen flapping in the breeze. Two minutes before this happened, two of my cats where sitting on the card table watching a squirrel raiding a bird feeder.
I immediately ran to the window and closed it so my other cat wouldn’t jump out. Then I did a pet check to make sure none of my other cats, or ferrets, had gotten out. With a quick head count, the only missing cat was Silent Bob. I ran outside to coax him back in, but he bolted for the woods. Frustrated and upset that he shot for the woods, I had no choice but to let him go, because now I was running late for my Tai Chi class.
Not wanting to make the class wait for me, I asked the owner of the property, and my friend, if he would take some time and try to coax Bob back in the house with treats. As I drove down the drive, I saw in the rearview mirror, my friend shaking the treat container and calling for Bob.
While driving to class, I asked my spiritual family to wrap Bob in their loving, healing, protective white light, and to please do the same for me. Arriving at the park for class, I tried to put my concern aside and focus on what I needed to do. Easier said than done. That’s why I asked for help to get out of my own way.
Returning home an hour and a half later, there were no signs of Bob outside, so I called my friend to see if he had any luck with the treats. He did not. I came in the house, turned on the TV, grabbed a puzzle and plopped down at the card table in the bay window. I thought, by keeping the sounds he’s familiar with, and me watching out for him, I would have a better chance of coaxing him in. I also thought the puzzle might help to keep my mind preoccupied.
Too distracted to really work the puzzle, I watched the birds at the feeders and called for Bob. I reflected on a time a couple of years ago when Bob had bolted out the kitchen door when I was going out. At that time I hadn’t had Bob long. I had adopted him from a local shelter, and nursed him back to health from a severe case of parasite infestation.
When animal control brought him into the shelter, the ladies at the shelter named him Mayo. After bringing him home, I noticed he didn’t say much. He’s the strong silent type. His meow is quiet for a big cat, more like a warble than a true roar. I decided to name him Silent Bob after the character in the movie Dogma.
Silent Bob (Mayo) at the shelter
The first time Silent Bob got out, he came back after two days. While he was out, he seemed to hang around the property, not wandering very far, as I would often see glimpses of him along the edge of the woods. With a large property consisting of partial woods, partial meadow, and partial overgrown, I was very concerned for his welfare. Knowing he had returned a couple of years ago though, gave me no peace of mind on this particular day. I had no guarantee he would do a repeat. Trying to stay focused on the positive, I asked Father Universe and Mother Earth, and my guides and angels for help. I turned my angst over to them.
Not long after asking for help, my friend called to let me know a roofer was coming to give an estimate for a new roof. This made my heart sing!! This leaky roof has been quite challenging over the past year, and now there is light at the end of the tunnel. My mind instantly went to life’s flip side of the coin. The worry for Silent Bob/Happiness for a potential new roof.
After class, I had parked my car in front of the bay windows in case it rained, so Bob could remain close and have protection. I covered the car with a tarp (because it also leaks), and as dusk was approaching, I thought I’d take the tarp off and see if he was there. And there he was. He came right up to me, let me pick him up (he doesn’t like to be held), and the two of us walked through the door together. Now I have to put hardware cloth over my screens, but that is better than having the cats get out and possibly hurt, or kill, birds and squirrels, or be hurt themselves.
By asking my spiritual family for help and support, it opened the door for them to help me manage my worry and angst. Knowing they are always there, is a constant comfort, because face it, we all get wrapped up in our lives, and ourselves, and don’t always see other people, or the bigger picture.
By following their guidance, and remaining calm, I didn’t turn his escape into big drama, like I would have done in the past. Maybe I’m growing up a little, maybe it’s my belief and faith in my spiritual family, or maybe it’s both. Either way, Silent Bob is home, and seems to have found his voice. Now he doesn’t stop meowing for attention.
The beautiful, no longer, Silent Bob