Who or what do you believe when you really need to believe in someone or something?
What’s the difference between wishing and hoping and thinking and praying, planning and dreaming and simply believing?
Who is that voice inside of you? The voice that assures you all is well and will be well?
Your instinct?
Your gut?
Your intuition?
Your true north?
And how steadfast and resolute are you in your beliefs?
Our feral cat, Scruffy, aka Scruffanutter, has not come around for six day now. My heart and my inner-knowing assure me he is not dead. My inner compass, intuition, connection to the Divine Source assures me he will return home safe and sound.
Despite us being awoken by our dogs who had begun growling at 4:45 AM on Monday morning, and whose growling morphed into low barking, as the barking of a coyote could be heard close by.
Now I’ve heard the coyotes yip and howl out in the back woods before. A collective cacophony of spine tingling noise… band of brothers baying in unison, proclaiming their presence and their need to be heard. But this was different.
This was barking.
Three short, one long bark, in repetition. The shrill made the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention as I rustled from the blankets and rose to my feet.
I could sense the nervousness of our dogs Charlotte and Webster.
I lost my breath, as I drew the blinds in the window of the bathroom… the full moon (namely the full hunter’s moon, or full harvest moon… and I’m not going there!) bathed the back yard in brilliant white light.
The lawn and trees were shimmering and took on a feel of all things magical.
The coyote – singular – continued to howl.
I opened the window, stuck my head out and yelled.
It stopped howling.
I stopped yelling.
It started howling.
This interaction could have continued all morning.
I decided reasoning was a lost cause, and opted to retreat back to bed.
I calmed Charlotte and Webster down by assuring them we were safe and I laid there thinking of all the worst case scenarios for that coyote.
Maybe’s it’s injured.
Maybe it’s leg is caught in a trap.
Maybe it’s lost and calling out to its pack.
And as I sent Reiki and prayers to the coyote, I drifted back into a deep sleep.
Never in my wildest dreams did I think about the safety of Scruffy and his sidekick, Shadow.
Scruffy is a street smart, 10+ year old feral who, if he is so inclined, will allow us to touch him, and pick him up – if only for a brief moment. He has been gracing our lives for the past ten years, is the father of our three kittens; Izzie, Maisie and Tigger (another story for another time) and he and Shadow come around every single day for his two square meals; to lounge on the deck, or snuggle in a yin and yang position wherever they find comfort. He has survived many harsh winter nights, tucked safely and warmly in his sleep tight, heated protective home.
Never did I think Scruffy was in danger.
Not really.
Trust me, I don’t live in a bubble and I know the coyotes ran rampant and enjoy dining on small animals, but Scruffy, well, he’s Scruffy and he has done an awesome job looking out for himself (and any other companion he brings around) for nearly a decade now.
We have not seen hide or hair of him for six days and though we have undertaken search and rescue missions throughout the acres of woodlands which surround our property, we have not found any signs of a scuffle nor him.
He’s a big, fluffy, sometimes multi-matted fella – so surely there would be some indication of … well, you get my drift.
But there’s nothing.
So where’s Scruffy?
Well, I believe my connection is strong.
And I believe my connection is true.
And I believe what I am ‘being told’ is real.
And I believe it is not merely wishful thinking.
My spirit guides and even the spirits of three of Scruffy’s previous feline companions/family members, assure me he will return home ‘safe and sound’. And so I continue to believe and hold that space and vision.
More often than not that voice inside our head knows the truth. Whether or not we want to believe it, allow it to guide us and bring us home, is completely up to us.
Scruffy will return home safe and sound. It matters not that I don’t know how. Or where he is. Or how he is. What matters is that I continue to be steadfast and resolute.