Indigo hadn't eaten for more than four days, and hadn't ingested a full meal in about a week.  Jenelle was distraught.  She'd tried everything to tempt him, but to no avail.  Her beloved Applehead Balinese boy, her heart's child, was slipping away.  And no one knew why.

 

That's when she contacted me.

 

Given the urgency of Indigo's situation, I tuned into him on an emergency basis, on a Saturday night.  I sensed that his blood pressure was low, and that he may have been having trouble breathing.  But Indigo wanted to talk less about his physical discomfort, and more about his feelings.  Something had happened, he said, to upset his equilibrium.  Whatever it was, it seemed to have been going on for some time.  This magnificent cat seemed to have suffered a blow to his self-esteem, and he was letting me know that he wanted to make himself appear to be smaller.   I was unable to pinpoint a physical reason that would have let to his refusal to eat.

 

The next day, Indigo's condition deteriorated further.  Based on an ultrasound and some biopsies, his vets were leaning toward a diagnosis of lymphoma.  Indigo had become anemic; he would need an immediate transfusion to stabilize his condition.  His vets told Jenelle that they wanted to start a round of chemotherapy right away.

 

Jenelle realized she was facing some difficult decisions, but she didn't want to make them without consulting Indigo.  She sat with him and communicated her heartfelt messages of love and concern, but he wouldn't meet her eyes.  Was he saying he wanted to undergo the prescribed treatment, or slip peacefully out of his body?  Jenelle wasn't sure.  She asked me to talk with him again.

 

When I connected with Indigo on Monday, he clearly indicated that he wasn't ready to say good-bye.  He explained that he found it difficult to look into Jenelle's eyes because he saw so much sadness there.  It made him sad to see her like that.  But most of all, he seemed to be agonized at his enforced separation from Jenelle and her partner, Eric.  He wanted them to hold him, and to talk to him, and he wanted to come home to be with them again, even if to do so would compromise his chances of survival.  Indigo felt that he would further shut down if he had to remain in the hospital, even though his veterinarians were firm in their insistence that he wouldn't live without continued treatment.

 

Jenelle had a gut-wrenching choice to make.  By Monday night, Indigo had not improved, and Jenelle was preparing to let him go.  But she took her beautiful cat's words to heart.  She decided that Indigo needed to come home, where he could feel safe and secure and loved, even it if would only be for a few more hours.

 

But then, something unexpected happened.  Indigo rebounded.  He started eating again, and over the last few weeks, he seems to have completely recovered.  He has regained his joie de vivre.  His vets are amazed, and cannot explain it. 

 

But I think I can. 

 

Jenelle had the courage to listen to her cat, and to deeply respect his wishes, believing him when he said that he wasn't willing to live if it meant staying in the hospital.  When she brought him home, she couldn't have known how he would respond, and had reconciled herslef to the idea that it might be necessary to release him from his body.  But as it turned out, when she honored Indigo's wishes, Jenelle truly liberated him from whatever it was that was making him sick, in his body and in his soul.  And whatever comes next, they will face it together.