Are There Angels Around Us?

Anxiously awaiting to start my trip to Pennsylvania to visit my sister over the Labor Day weekend at the end of August 2008, I went upstairs to say goodbye to my cat, Blinken, as he lay on my bed ready to take his after breakfast nap. Stroking him gently, I told him that our friends, John and Joe, were coming over to take care of him. He looked at me, visibly upset that I was leaving and continued to groom himself, in preparation for his nap.

Three minutes later, my husband and I drove off, clueless to the fact that upon hearing the front door open, he'd ran out swiftly around the house and to the back yard while we were putting our luggage in the truck. A pleasant four-hour trip to my sister's was the prelude to a most enjoyable weekend. Little did I know of the trauma that awaited us upon our return.

Arriving home at midnight three days later, Blinken was nowhere to be found. Walking around the neighborhood and calling his name received no response. Standing in the backyard hoping for his return became a fruitless exercise. Crying myself to sleep I hoped that daylight in a few hours might find him safely back home. To my dismay next morning, he did not return.

Daily I prayed with renewed fervour. At night I tried to meditate but my grief was unbearable and all I could do was pray, calling upon God, my teachers, the saints, my guru--whichever source came to mind. Still no Blinken. Posters put up within a half mile radius elicited dozens of calls daily (and nightly, too) with us responding to each one as quickly as we could by foot or car to identify the cats in question--all to no avail.

Three weeks later, my husband said to me one night, "Did you hear that? It sounds like Blinken." I heard nothing except the noise of the television, which was definitely fairly loud. In any event, we both rushed out our back door, and there he was in the neighbor's yard, visibly hurt with one paw up in the air. Tears of joy streamed down my face as I gently called his name.

Unable to jump over the fence with a hurt leg, he just stood there. My husband jumped over the fence into our neighbor's yard hoping to hand him over to me. Scared by the sudden noise, Blinken scampered away on all three's and was not to be seen again for the ensuing days.

To have seen him hurt and not been able to bring him back into the house was emotional torture. Our hearts were breaking with grief and the feeling of helplessness. In a last frantic bid for Divine help I called to the Angels with the following prayer: "Not for my sake but for his, please lift up and bring my kitty over the fence so that we may care for him as otherwise he'll surely die." I started visualizing the Angels holding him and carrying him over the fence every day and night.

A week later, one morning at 6:30 a.m., we heard a cat crying at our back door. Rushing downstairs we barely opened the door when he just bolted in and began kissing us, stroking us, and eating hungrily. He had lost tremendous weight and a lot of his hair. His left front leg was badly injured. Yet, on all three's, despite his pain, he ran around the house excitedly, just happy to be home. This was, however, only the beginning of another chapter of challenges.

Four months later, and three major surgeries--during the last of which he lost his leg--Blinken's home was a cage. It was critical for his recuperation after his surgeries, but to witness his pain and sadness, both physical and emotional, was unbearable. Yet, I kept visualizing the Angels surrounding him with their light, whether at home or at the hospital. Incredibly, he managed, despite his weakened immune system and having been near total starvation, to recuperate and become stronger. During my visits to him at the veterinary hospital, I would continue to do the visualizing technique with the Angels not only surrounding him with light, but also the other animals. Miraculously, one particular newborn kitten who was being kept in an incubator and being fed with a dropper suddenly started walking towards a dish with soft food and started eating. Everyone was amazed since the prognosis had been glum--the kitten had been too weak to even move or eat anything solid and had been given very little hope, if any, of survival.

At his last check-up in February, this year, his doctor commented on Blinken's resilience and his amazing recovery considering he'd lost almost half his weight, lots of his hair, and was quite dehydrated when he first came home. He said to me, "It's a miracle that he's even alive after all that he's been through. He's quite a trooper." I replied, "Yes, it is a miracle, the Angels have been looking after him." Doc replied, "They certainly have!"