Potsey's Homecoming

Postsie’s Homecoming 1/7/10


My beloved little orange tabby, who has an adventurous bohemian spirit, decided to go for a walkabout only a couple weeks after we moved into our new treehouse apartment in Portland. We are upstairs with lots of trees hovering protectively over a large wood balcony which also offers easy roof access to other porches. So, as is his custom, Potsey went and returned a few times, like Noah’s dove. And with each return, my heart leaped a bit, breathing a sign of relief. . 
 
Then, on a Monday morning, he went out, as was becoming his new ritual. I had a lot to do that morning, so I also went out. When I got back in the afternoon, I remembered that he’d gone out and I’d forgotten to be sure he was back in before I left. I went on the balcony and called and called, but a sinking feeling took hold. I prayed, fighting back all that dark, ugly fear.

By night time, fear was winning over faith.
 
The next morning, there was still no sign of him at the glass door. That night, I was certain. He was lost. I had gone looking for him, calling him like an old Irish fishwife with the loud, long cat call. “Here kitty kitty kitty ….. heeeeeeeeeere kiiiiiiiiitttttteeeeee, kiiiiiiiiittttteeeeee ……” feeling foolish and knowing and feeling it was all in vain.
 
The next day, I spent the enter day calling and searching animal shelters, talking to police, searching through endless long websites of missing animals in the area. I was becoming exhausted and hope was fading fast. That night, when again he didn’t come home, I just collapsed, sobbing, berating myself for having let him out, and fearing now the worst with no consolation at all. He was definitely gone. I featured him dead on the road somewhere, hit by a car, or injured at the hands of a cruel human.
 
Then next morning, I just surrendered. I’d prayed, cried, prayed, sobbed, held my other cat, and together we rocked, cried and prayed. I chanted his, “beautiful Potsey, beautiful; beautiful Potsey, beautiful” song that I sang to him often as I petted him. What a love affair! It just couldn’t end. I couldn’t imagine him gone.
 
Finally, I reached a temporary place of peace. I was all cried out, worn out, sad, resigned and numb. I breathed to myself, “well, what will be, will be,” knowing full well the huge power in that simple phrase.
 
Then, I decided to take the recycling out. As I walked to the dumpster way at the other end of the apartments, I realized it was an exceptionally beautiful day for January. It had rained non-stop since Potsey left three days earlier, and it had been bitterly cold and very windy. If he was outside, I don’t know if he could have survived. But, that day, the sun peeked out just a bit, it felt warmer out, drier, and in that sweeter climate, my hope began to seep back in my heart. I decided, as I walked the long stretch to the dumpster, to make another impassioned search for him, loudly chanting, “Potsey!!!! Here kitty, kitty.”
 
I started to feel bold, a bit crazed, like I didn’t care what anyone thought of me. I wanted to find my cat. I’d risk looking like an insane cat woman for the sake of my cat. So, I gave in to looking foolish, and in real earnest, started walking up and down all the driveways, calling loudly, alerting everyone around me that I was certifiable.

I called him. I engaged children if they’d seen him. I even hung around the few other cats, inquiring if they’d seen him. They just asked for more petting.
 
Finally, I was nearly back to our apartment, and I was losing hope, but I thought I’d give it one last try, “Potsey!” I yelled out, demanding a response.
 
“Here kittt…..” I started, and then in the distance, heard a distant, muffled, weak and gravey, “meow ….” raspy, as if he’d been crying for a long time.
 
“Potsey!!” I yelled back.
 
“Meow,” came the reply.
 
I got so excited, I started crying. I ran toward the sound, calling his name, almost frantically, and he replied louder and louder, also with that unique kind of cat joy. I finally found him, cold and wet, on the second floor balcony of an empty apartment. He’d come home, but to the wrong building. Finally, after talking a neighbor in to letting me into his apartment, so I could see Potsey, my poor cat was too weak to jump up on the rail and come to me. I ran downstairs desperate to get maintenance to let me in. Then, I turned around and the nice guy who had let me in his apartment,had came downstairs carrying Potsey, and passed him to me. He’d managed to coax him into his balcony.

I held him tightly, and cried in relief and sheer joy as I ran back to the warm apartment, put him on a warm heating pad, gave him some foot and water. He ate and ate, and then slept for about four days. I was ecstatic that he’d been spared and found. I knew that somehow God had something to do with this. I collapsed on the floor, and just prayed the following great chant of praise and gratefulness to God.

 

All praise and love to You, 

in whom we live and move and have our being.
You, who hold us, contain us and love us,
You who are our garden of delights

in whom we experience all,
You who are the Great Allowing,
Oh, Great One, I love you.
You have loved me and allowed me my longing

and given me life and freedom and fulfillment.

I praise you, on my knees, at the top of my lungs.
I praise you with all my being.
I praise You.
Thank You.

Amen

The desperation, the need for God, the love that was so longing for itself in my precious Potsey, all combined to teach me a most awesome lesson and in that lesson give me the gift of knowing what it feels like to really need God and also what it feels like when He responds to that need. This prayer is always on my lips, in my heart, and always close to me, in all things, simple, ordinary or challenging and stretching and abounding. In all things, I Praise and Thank God for all of Life, in everything. 

It is all so good. So, very, very good.