Faithfulness

It is interesting how the small things can matter so much in the long run. It is small things that we remember, small faults, when we are angry, and small kindnesses that can change our lives, and viewpoints, when we are happy or sad.

I wanted to spend a moment talking about a small and important part of my life. He 'returned to God' last Monday, went to sleep, went to the happy hunting ground, or simply died. He was a kind, gentle individual who had a habit of getting exactly what he wanted, anytime he wanted it, by demanding it, by 'head-butting' the adversary, until we provided what he wanted, whether it was food, or Reiki, or just company. His name is still Cinnamon, and he is still a living presence in my life, as he has been for the past 17 ½ years. He was the family's cat, but mostly my son's.

Cinnamon came into the family when Matt was 2 ½ and Tia was 7 months. I remember the day I bought him in a suburb in Adelaide, on the way to collecting my then husband from work. He was a small ball of grey fur, soft and fluffy. He came to me by climbing the wire cage wall and head-butting the cover until I opened it and let him out. That wall was a good three feet high. You could say he was telling me he was going home with us that day.

He climbed my ex's body onto his shoulder when he got into the car, saw Matt and adopted him. That was it. They went everywhere together after that, including being carried around by the neck, one day, when Matt was about four. Cinnamon put up with a lot over the years.

Cinnamon travelled from Adelaide, to Roxby Downs, to Invergowrie and finally to Armidale. He travelled well (at one point flying) and was always a grounding force in our household of many different cats. He would take any kittens born and 'train them right', gently and with wisdom. Once I found him in the basket keeping newborn kittens warm while their mother was getting a drink. He was just like that. In the end his faith in us kept him alive longer than necessary. Finally his kidneys failed, but he still trusted me when I took him on that last visit to the vet. I wish everyone such a faithful companion.

What can we learn from our Cinnamon experience - 'head-butting' works? ;-) He would come and sit beside me and head-butt my arm or side until I gave him Reiki, during which he would curl up in a circle and purr and purr. He was a presence in our lives, always walking me out to the car, always caring about me, and my family. He would garden with my mother, watch TV with Matt and Tia. He is very much missed. He trusted us to have his best interests at heart. He trusted us to feed him right, and give him whatever he needed, and often what he wanted. He trusted us because we are/were his family and we still are.

I think Cinnamon came into the family to teach us unconditional love. He was most un-catlike in his devotion to us. He accepted us for who we were.

On Tuesday morning I glanced sideways out the window and watched a grey cat step down the back stairs. I went to the door expecting Meg, my grey cat, but no one was there. There was not enough time for a cat to disappear. At 2.30am Wednesday morning a cat brushed by my legs, all soft fur, as I went back to bed. I looked down but no one was there. Like Lucy, the black cat in spirit who hangs around the Centre here, Cinnamon is still with us and seems happy in his role as watcher. The other cats at my house are not bothered by him, though they are sometimes bothered by other spooky visitors we sometimes get.

I hope I can be as faithful as Cinnamon has been for me. I work on it each day, learning to trust myself and offering that trust, and the faith it engenders, to everyone that I meet. Sometimes we meet others who do not yet trust, or have faith in themselves, but they are learning to. It is up to us to give ourselves, and others, time to do this.

Wishing you a wonderful day,
Ama Nazra