“Pickle lived with me for 17 healthy and glorious years; she was a special animal that shared my heart and my home. After 17 healthy years she had about 6 months of losing condition, a variable appetite and known health problems. She may have been a little old lady, but the spark that was her remained undimmed.
The night before we were going on a three-week holiday abroad she developed a “death rattle” in her breathing, so I made a bed on the sofa and slept down stairs with her, expecting to be calling the vet in the morning. Miraculously, next day she was back to normal, or what was then normal for her. I opened my heart to my cat friend about her health and felt she wanted our local vet friend to put her to sleep when the time was right, so I contacted her and she came to the house.
The house sitter, whom Pickle really liked, arrived. We had a chat between myself, the house sitter and the vet, with Pickle sitting on the floor between us, involved. We worked out a kind and caring plan of action in case she had another turn whilst I was away.
“Are you OK with that?” I asked. Not sure I heard an answer, but I asked and included her in the conversation.
Whilst I was away, the house sitter sent me occasional pictures of my friend, always looking happy and settled. However, on 22.2.20 (I like numbers, and it seems an auspicious date), I received a message that Pickle was in distress and could I communicate with her please.
I found a picture of her on my phone, settled, opened my heart and waited. Trusting. I was over 5000 miles away from her but it made no difference, and once I felt a connection asked, “How do you feel?”
I was shown a cage round her chest. I interpreted this as pain and constriction. Heart, breathing.
“What animal would you show me to tell me what you need to happen – a mole. I interpreted this as ready to go to the earth.
Pickle wanted to know when I would be back home so I communicated that I could not be home for three days – she could not wait that long.
I sat with this and connected to her for a while and checked back that it felt honest and true, then sent a message back to share the information, my finger hovering over the send button before the finality of pressing it.
I sat for some time supporting Pickle, sending her love and releasing her, and at one point felt the energy lift and lighten.
I then received a picture of my precious friend’s face, asleep, transitioned and at peace.
I howled, I hyperventilated and was very distressed BUT I am so glad the picture was sent as it enabled me to truly process my grief.
Now let me share the story from the other end.
Pickle was downstairs, the house sitter was asleep upstairs. She woke at 3.30am and knew she had to come down; Pickle needed her. She followed her intuition.
Pickle was restless and could not get comfortable; she was struggling to breath UNTIL I connected with her. She instantly, and for the first time in hours, settled. The house sitter was amazed.
The vet (who lives round the corner) arrived to look at Pickle who rubbed the house sitter round her legs then sat plonk in front of the vet and stared intently at her. In the vet’s words, she knew what she was here for and wanted her to do.
The vet went to the surgery for the drugs, meanwhile the house sitter lay on the floor with Pickle, heads gently touching and supporting her whilst they waited for the vet to return.
The drugs were gently and kindly administered and my precious friend left her body.
As we had planned, Pickle was wrapped in the very colourful blanket I had crocheted and she had taken as her own. I wanted to bury my friend myself, so she was put in the freezer until my return.
The next day the house sitter opened the front door and without thinking called out to greet Pickle.
What happened next gave me such comfort: Pickle showed her self in her healthy best body disappearing down the step into the sitting room to a place she liked to sleep, and incidentally into the room where she had transitioned. She showed the house sitter that she was fine.
When I returned home and buried my friend I opened my heart and asked what flowers she wanted. Pink. With yellow bits. Like my blanket. I thought about a stone plaque and I chose the words; Pickle, Precious Princess. Then “One in a million” and a picture of the night sky came into my head. Aha, I used to tell her she was my lucky star. Don’t you just love that about cats? They know they are glorious!
‘One in a million’ are not quite the words I would have chosen but all of this is indeed on her stone, stars and all, and her pink flowers are looking very pretty with their yellow edges. I smile when I see her words and stars, and I know they are from her.
I would love nothing more than for my Precious Princess Pickle to walk in to the room and to stroke her soft fur again. I can however take huge comfort from the fact that my special friend had a good passing and one she helped to orchestrate.
I swear her photo does that squeezy eyes thing that cats do to smile at you. I swear the ball of golden light I recently saw at cat level out of the corner of my eye was her showing herself in a way that I could see.
Am I a professional animal communicator? Heck no! When the chips were down I just trusted the messages that I felt were given to me and followed my heart and intuition and allowed that it COULD be.
Am I glad I did? Heck yes! It is a great comfort to know I gave my best friend a wonderful life and a good ending, that she had choices and to the best of my ability she was listened to.
She was, and is: Pickle, Precious Princess, one in a million. My lucky star.”
– Angie and PPP x
I am very happy for you to share our story wherever you like and hope it helps other animals and their guardians. Precious Princess Pickle is giving the paws up from over my left shoulder. I could have added in our story that after she had transitioned she felt all sparkly to me, and now sharing this story makes her sparkle all the more.
If you’d like to send in an experience with your animal loved one, email [email protected]
With kindness and grace,
Pea Horsley
Animal Communicator
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