In my last post, I didn’t even want to mention the fact that Grace had disappeared – as if giving voice to this fact could make it become permanent. Just as I was beginning kitten watch, and she was becoming more tame than ever – making long eye contact and even rolling on the sidewalk with a submissive belly display, she vanished. She has gone on walkabout in the past for a few days, but this time, her two pals (Diego and Frida) went from friendly and near-tame to terrified at every sound, and in hiding. I had a bad feeling that something terrible had happened.
A week went by with no sign of Grace, though the other two came back after a few days, looking a little shell-shocked. After she was missing a week, I had a consult with the wonderful Suzan, an animal communicator I’ve used in the past with good results. When I asked her if she could locate Grace, she said she could not get any kind of reading on her, and she was “80% sure” Grace was “no longer in this body.” I was stunned – I was thinking Grace might have moved herself and the kittens farther down the creek. It never occurred to me that she might have been killed. I also asked about some possible kittens, and she chose her words carefully. Two had likely been born, she said, but she was also unable to get a reading on them. She sensed there had been a life-threatening separation from mama, when they were too little to fend for themselves.
I was crushed and in tears for hours, but because I’m basically an optimist, I thought I would trust in the 20% chance that she would show up again, as she always has. But a week has gone by now, and my hopes dim by the minute. I cannot think of her without a flood of emotion. Grace was, in her own way, my cat. I saw her almost daily for nearly four years now; I adopted out three litters of her kittens; she and I played the equivalent of cat-and-mouse for years, with my clumsily trying to trap her and nearly succeeding on occasion. I was in awe of her mothering skills, and her ability to survive in tough surroundings. Thinking I’ll never see her again breaks my heart.
While grieving Grace, I’ve been trying to trap Big Mike, who is also wise to traps and avoiding them scrupulously. The good news is that his awful wound seems to be healing; at least he is putting weight on his leg. And strangely, a Grace-like (and Pokey-like) mini-me came around while I was trying to trap Mike. She is beautiful – a young kitty of maybe a year or so. I have only seen her the one time now, but I’m anxious to create a routine and try and trap her as well – and see if she is as lovely, smart and wily as her possible mama. (Could Charlotte and Wilbur have had a third sibling who struck out on her own rather than coming up to the sidewalk?)
New girl on left, Grace on right.
I don’t know – call me crazy but maybe Grace left a little gift behind?
I know the tears will stop eventually; an excess of them is the trade-off for having a wide-open heart these days, which also has an abundant capacity for joy. Gracie – if you are really gone, fare you well sweet lady. Say hi to Mocha on the other side.