We found Boulder, our beloved cat of twenty years, at a garage sale. Boulder turned out to be an exceptional cat; an extraordinary being. He had a signature meow that came from deep within and ended on a musical upswing:

merOW! He was a cat of few meows. He grew up around our terriers, and we would laugh at how he seemed more like a dog than a cat at times - he was like a dog wearing a cat costume! His favorite toy was a dog bone. He held his own with the hyper canine energy.  Despite his large stature, he reminded me of the lion from the Wizard of Oz.

Over the years, Boulder became such a permanent fixture in our lives that it just never occurred to me that one day he wouldn't be with us. In his last few years, I found myself in the position of caretaker to a very old feline. He started wanting to go out several times at night, and I was worried about the coyotes, so I would follow him out with a flashlight while he made his nocturnal rounds and did his business. I could tell he wasn't thrilled with being chaperoned, but he allowed it. This went on for the last few years of his life. It definitely disturbed my sleep pattern, but there was also something magical about wandering our property in the moonlight and hearing the sounds of night creatures - it reminded me that there's a whole other world that goes on while we are sleeping. A few times I was able to witness Boulder in some of his adventures; once he chased a raccoon and had a funny stand-off with a huge jack rabbit. 

In the last few months, Boulder slowed down even more. In my heart, I knew that the time was drawing near, even though he didn't show any outward signs of illness. But part of me thought I could just keep things going by micromanaging his daily needs.

One night, I was alone with him and felt suddenly compelled to tell him that it was o.k. for him to go. I spoke this to him almost casually - I said something like:  "Boulder, you really can go when you want to.  It is o.k. to go".  He purred back, even though I wasn't touching him. It was a peaceful moment.

The very next morning he seemed subdued, and refused any offerings of food or water. I immediately blamed myself - how could I have given him "permission" to GO. That night the moon was full and I slept out on the living room couch with Boulder. Finally I fell asleep for a bit and had this incredible dream. I dreamt that I took Boulder to the beach (something I'd never done in waking life), but it was unlike any beach I've seen in my life: The sand was pure white, and I felt an enveloping warmth when I stepped in it, much like when you first sink into a hot bubble bath. The water was a brilliant blue that matched the sky.  Even the sun had an enhanced golden hue. The place seemed to shimmer! I felt safe and happy, but in the dream I was very aware that Boulder, in his feline body, was hurting.   

When I woke up, it was clear to me that the dream place was where Boulder wanted to go to, but couldn't get to in his present state. That morning I was able to see the way the rest of our companion animals responded to him. It was so touching that I took photos, with part of me again aware of the fact that these might be the last ones I'd take of Boulder.  The dogs surrounded him almost in a triangle formation and stayed with him for a long time. They were quiet, which was unusual. Our rescue house rabbit, Wasabi, hopped over to touch noses and sit with him.  Everything and everyone was still in the house.

An hour before the vet was due to arrive, I decided to take Boulder outside.  He tried to eliminate, and I saw how painful it was for him. He cried out, in fact, in pain - and that's what finally got my attention - it was so obvious to me now that he needed to shed this feline body!! I held him and walked him around the property and showed him all his favorite spots. I took him down to the donkeys for a final farewell. I held him close to my chest and felt his heart beat against mine, and the weight of his warm furry body, and I kissed his head over and over, telling him how much I loved him.

When the vet arrived, I knew it was time. Boulder made his transition at home with the animals around and my one daughter who was able to make it home in time.  At the moment of his injection, I felt relief when I felt his body go limp and I knew he was out of pain. But I was completely unprepared for the grief that then flooded me!  I felt like something had been wrenched violently from me. After my other daughter arrived and we prepared Boulder's grave and had a ceremony and buried him (with his favorite dog bone), I walked alone around the property sobbing and, as odd as this may sound, MEOWING. The strangest sounding meows were coming from ME! It was bizarre, but I could not control it. Thankfully we live on acreage so none of the neighbors could hear me. For at least an hour I wandered around sobbing and meowing. I held my arms across my chest as if I was holding Boulder. I could not fathom the fact that he was gone.

As the weeks passed, I continued to grieve and swore I would see Boulder lounging on the corner of the deck or part of his tail leaving a room.  I certainly felt his energy around. I simply ached for him.  I had cried so much that my left eyelid developed a constant twitch. I sought out the company of other cat and animal lovers who I knew would give me comfort. I asked Boulder to visit me in a dream.

Months went by before I begin to dream about Boulder. I then began to have dreams where he appeared and I took care of him in various ways - once he had a cough and I offered him a cough drop; another time I had several plates of food out for him to choose from. But always it felt like I was trying too hard and as though I was taking care of just a body, and not the spirit of Boulder. They were odd dreams and not very helpful to my grieving process, and I yearned for a sign that he was doing o.k.

And then, seven months after Boulder passed, I had this dream:

Boulder just showed up in the living room. I was ecstatic! It was pure Boulder, totally the essence of him. He sauntered around the house, seemingly quite pleased with himself. He looked vibrant. Thrilled, I asked him:  "Boulder! Are you visiting from another realm?" He looked up at me and gave one response - his solitary, signature "MerOW!!" I took it as a yes! I never did have another dream, but that one dream continues to stay with me and I have no doubt that Boulder had come for a visit, and that all was well. I still miss his physical presence in my life but look forward to the day we can meow together again!

Little everyday actions can make a BIG DIFFERENCE!

Ideas to help spread the message of compassion: 

Letter writing - Keep it simple to avoid overwhelming yourself or others. 

Talk shows - Listen to or watch pertinent talk shows, and call in whenever possible. Have notes on hand so you're always prepared. Stay calm and avoid becoming overtly emotional (which I realize is easier said than done, but just do the best you can, and know that you are making a difference). 

Family Outreach - Lovingly provide literature to loved ones who may be more receptive to outside information than your own words. Remember that you are taking an important stand and making a compassionate choice that deserves the respect and support of those who love you. You deserve that much, as do the animals and Mother Earth!

Workplace Outreach - Co-workers tend to be quite interested in that which is different or unusual. Lead by example, and always have informative information handy to give to those who express interest or curiosity.

Community Outreach - Get involved in local groups or consider starting one. Submit articles or letters to the editor of local papers and/or magazines. Put flyers around town (not on cars, as this is invasive, eco-un-friendly, and just makes people angry). Set up displays at community markets or street fairs.

National Outreach - Join national animal welfare or environmental groups. Submit articles or letters to the editor of national papers and/or magazines. Set up displays at national trade shows. Put flyers in all outgoing mail (bills, etc.), as there is usually a human on the other side who opens that mail. 

Global Outreach - Get involved on the Internet. Start a simple web site with lots of information and/or resources; or use search engines and chat rooms to spread the word.

Ways to get started:

1.   Create a routine - Make it realistic and "do-able."

2.   Develop good, simple habits that become a way of life.

3.   Have resources handy (such as www.peta.org & www.pcrm.org).

4.   Remember why it's so important; read inspirational  

      books.

5.   Explain to others what you do and why. Be friendly  

      and wise.

6.   Make it fun and easy; this is the way to ensure action.

7.   Remind yourself that you are indeed making a difference!