I could never tell if familiars were supposed to be pets that you really understood – you know, in that “talk to the animals’ kind of way – or if they are supposed to be something more.
My old ‘mama’ kitty Tabitha died yesterday. She was eighteen and just about my favorite person in the world until she got really old and started to pee on everything. We went on for a few more months and poor old thing went into a real decline, and it was time to accept her passing.
This is a photo of another old and dear friend of mine, who was also in a sense my familiar. I used to talk to her like a captive audience and she loved every minute of it. I also found a photo of the cat. She gave me a lot of good advice, but never gave her disapproval. I was grateful for that.
In medieval days talking to an animal was enough to get a witch burnt, or hung or whatever they did to people who connected too closely with nature. Yesterday, my cat’s ghost chided me as she made her way to the Happy Hunting Ground.
The vet had asked me what kitty’s favorite things to do were, and I listed what she did most: hunting and bossing the other animals around. We talked about what a good and faithful kitty she had been for so many years through so many moves…
Later in the day, as I thought about her passing and the burial later she came to me to help correct my memory of her. She wanted me to know that in her eighteen years of catching blue jays and chasing off feral cats, eating tuna fish and drinking half & half, her very favorite thing of all was something I had missed altogether. She wanted me to know that her very favorite thing of all was to curl up in my lap and purr.
And this was how she passed.