Yudi is dying. It's life, I tell myself. We’re eternal beings, my teacher says, on a human path. Or on an animal path, like Yudi. I don’t want him to leave just yet. My yoga boy, purring under my solar plexus in cobra pose. How do I let him go? The greatest Zen teacher I ever had, and my first cat.
I was doing dishes when Michael brought him home in the palm of his hand. Sixteen years ago. Sir Yudi 'Boo' Longfellow we named him. Boo Boo or Yudi for short. At first we called him ‘Hey You!’ as he raced through the house, and we trailed foolishly after. He looked like a rat drinking from bowls bigger than his dark slinky body, ordained with a toothpick tail, ears that towered above him and a grin sliced across his inky black face. The cat was driven, tearing the house up to get me out of bed every morning. He made us laugh and lived for food. Killing for cantaloupe or garbanzo beans, batting his brothers to be the first.
Today my big boy is disoriented, bony and blind and can barely walk. No one knows what’s up or what to do to help him. Could be a brain tumor or some perplexing virus attacking the nerves, doctors say. He’s deteriorating slowly. Vet #6 suggests I euthanize Yudi immediately. I can’t find the courage to put him down. He still wakes me up in the morning, purrs when I rub him and with help, eats like a horse. What if his soul's work isn’t finished yet? I don't want to interfere with his path.
Who am I to end his life? I had taken Buddhist vows in 1995 to not kill or create suffering for others. I asked Yudi to tell me what he wanted. I was ready to honor and respect his wishes and requests, put my own opinions and beliefs about euthanasia aside, and listen to him with my heart and not my mind.
Yudi was the one who gave me the animal communication abilities I have today. Through the years he sat on the kitchen counter top receiving and sending thoughts with me. Today people pay me to speak to their animals telepathically, but it's difficult at times to hear my own animal family. I get stuck in my stuff. Yudi knows this and usually gets through to me in my dreams.
Two Sundays ago Michael stopped by with Yudi's favorite treats, baked chicken and Sun Chorella. After he left I fell fast asleep with all five cats on my twin futon, and had a remarkable dream.
On a porch lay a large boned dog with a lonely face. He is isolated from his family and apart from his long time friend. Suddenly a small black dog finds his way back, nuzzles up to him, laying his small black paws on his big old friend's arm. Everything is all right! The big dog's eyes light up as though he finds a treasure he thought he had lost. He lifts his heavy face into a wide cheshire grin, exposing a row of flat human teeth.
At that point I wake up, my eyes unfocused in the hazy moonlit room. Much too my surprise Yudi is laying next to me on my bed with his head propped up, staring at me inches away. His coal black paws resting on my arm. Purring loudly, something I have not heard since his turn for the worst. I think perhaps it's Bubby laying there, my gentle boy cat who’s also black. When you're nearsighted, everyone looks the same in the dark. I push my nose into his fur. Smells like Yudi, sweet as cotton candy. I rub the tip of his ears. They're clipped (torn from early fights.) They're Yudi ears! What was he consoling me about in my dream? Did he think that I was missing Michael whom I had recently separated from after 22 years? Or was Yudi telling me it was all right to let him go? That even when we’re apart he would still be here to hold my hand? He seemed to receive great comfort in comforting me.
I had always seen myself as his caretaker, although he was always more loving and patient than I. Animals come into our lives as teachers and healers. Perhaps I have been the student and he my spiritual guide? Although here we were two dogs in a dream. Except for our huge difference in size, there was no difference at all. I was his big old friend.
In two months Yudi's condition worsens. I take him to a healer and psychic, who tells me Yudi is a very wise soul, that he has been with me for a long time and has always been my guide. Who was he? The healer closes her eyes, but no images come to mind. "Yudi does not want to be put down," she says. "He has some things to process."
Tell him I am ready to let him go.
Yudi then tells the healer,"Her heart isn't."
A few days later I sit under the lemon tree holding Yudi in my arms. His body is cool and brittle as a willow branch. He’s barely hanging on. I ask him. Who were you in my past life? I close my eyes. He shows me a vivid image. A dark skinned, black haired Indian man. He is dressed in white and has his arm around me, He is a wise teacher of some kind. One who cares deeply about my soul’s journey. Why did you come back as a cat? He replies,"To open your heart."
I take him back to the healer who says he will pass in a few short days. She blesses him, does some transitional work and closes her eyes. "He was a man," she whispers after moments of silence..."an Indian man."
I nearly fall off the chair.
Yudi stops eating the following Tuesday evening and can not walk. The next day he can not close his eyes. His body trembles. It's time. My first time. I have no doubts in my mind. His passing is gentle. The doctor places a yellow rose under his chin as tears fall from my eyes. I am happy Yudi is released him from his suffering. I am sad to see him go.
I remember how relaxed and relieved I was the night I opened my sleepy eyes to Yudi's small face surrounded in the mysteries of the night. No matter what path I take or what porch I find myself on I know that Yudi will always find me. We don't die.
Thank you Boo Boo for opening my heart... and for that wonderful dream!
Dexter del Monte
'Animal Passages'.
Animal Wellness Magazine
June/July 2007
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