My experience talking with cats has led me to conclude that they have had a bad rap.

 

What we think we know about cats is that they are aloof, and that they operate strictly according to their own agenda, caring only for themselves, without regard for us, or for their creature companions.

 

I'm here to say that it's not true.

 

During the course of my practice as an animal communicator, I've seen (and heard!) numerous examples of cats reaching out to their people, and even to the other animals in their household, in ways that might surprise you.  They are deeply sensitive to the feelings and pain of their extended family members, and when given a chance, they'll express their concern with great poignancy.

 

Take Popo, a charismatic white cat with captivating blue eyes.  He was adopted earlier this year after his family had lost one of their beloved cats, who had been suddenly stricken and had died by the time his "Mom" arrived at the vet's office.  Popo showed me a picture of his favorite feline companion, and conveyed the sounds of the names of the other cats who lived with him, with amazing clarity.  Very impressive, I thought.  But it was at the end of our conversation, when he suddenly blurted out that someone in the family had died of a heart attack, that I paused to wonder whom he could possibly be referring to.

 

When I discussed it with Popo's Mom, Patty, she told me that Noah, the cat who had died before Popo arrived, had actually succumbed to a heart attack.  I'd been familiar with the circumstances of Noah's passing, but had never known the cause of his death until now.  It's clear that Popo had heard Patty and her husband (and perhaps the other cats) talking with great emotion about their departed feline friend, and Popo was affected enough by their bittersweet memories of Noah that their feelings for him had become part of his energy field, too.

 

And then there was Hathaway, a most remarkable calico who has seen and done a lot in her 19+ years.  Yet in talking with me, she chose to reminisce about her affection for significant others who had touched her heart.  Without any prompting, she expressed sadness at the loss of a brother who had died.  I sensed that this was a distant memory, and sure enough, Hathaway's Mom, Laurel, confirmed that she'd had an older feline friend, some 10 years her senior, who had passed away several years before.

 

But most touching was Hathaway's reference to the fact that of all her accomplishments, she was most proud of having helped Laurel through some type of personal crisis.  I felt as if this had been a divorce, but I was hesitant to even mention it, not knowing any details of Laurel's personal life, and fearing that I might offend her if I had misunderstood Hathaway.

 

But Hathaway was insistent about the fact that her purpose in Laurel's life was to be a loving presence when she really needed one, so of course, I told her what her cat had said.  And sure enough, Laurel confirmed what Hathaway had told me:  she had gone through a divorce several years ago, and it was Hathaway's compassionate spirit that had helped to pull her through.  

 

Both Popo and Hathaway demonstrate that in order to communicate with animals, we need to put aside preconceived notions about what they might be thinking, and discard stereotypical notions of how they might behave.  If you really listen to an animal, she will always surprise you.