Melissa 9 weeks old.
Photo by Indian Spring Cattery, Virginia

A New Body.  A New Life Plan.

Copyright © Nedda Wittels 2022

I expected to wait for months and months for Melissa to reincarnate.  In fact, I had asked Melissa to wait until February, 2022.  Being Melissa, she hadn’t said she would do that, but she also didn’t say “no” to my request.  Still, when the email with the photo arrived in early December, I was surprised.

Starlight and I had gotten into a very comfortable rhythm in our life together since Melissa had been euthanized in August, 2021.  Although I wanted Melissa to come back, I was willing to give Starlight as much time as she needed to explore being an only cat.

Then on Tuesday, December 7, 2021, I received an email from Indian Spring Cattery in Virginia.  I had contacted the breeder, Dr. Doug Schar, in early October, explaining that I expected my friend in spirit, Melissa, to return, and that she had told me she had found a breeding female at his cattery that she wanted for a mother.

I also explained I was a professional Animal Communicator, and that I’d recognize her from a photo.  It would be a female kitten, a Tonkinese.

To my amazement, Dr. Schar was completely open to helping me find the returning Melissa, even with his rule about kittens going to people in the order in which they send in a deposit.  He had experienced a feline friend return to him, which made it easier for him to understand my situation.

The circumstances surrounding this kitten were interesting.   She was supposed to go to a family that had suddenly decided to move and couldn’t take her.  Clearly, the Soul or Spirit of Melissa must have had advanced information, otherwise, why take this body if it meant ending up somewhere else?

Human reactions can be complex and complicated.  I took one look at the photo, and burst into tears and sobs.  Clearly my heart had instantly recognized her.  Meanwhile, my mind was telling me this couldn’t possibly be Melissa.  So for the first 24 hours, my mind and my heart were in this strange dance.

Once I accepted my heart’s knowledge as “truth,” I had more challenges to address.  I, myself, couldn’t go to Virginia to pick up the kitten.  Fortunately, there was an unexpected, miraculous solution.

Cary Hanson, Dr. Shar’s assistant, was coming to Connecticut by Amtrak on Friday, December 10, to visit family.  If this was Melissa, all I had to do was to meet them at New Haven’s Amtrak station that Friday evening, and the kitten would be delivered into my arms.

I spent the rest of the week organizing for Melissa’s arrival.  I can’t remember now everything I did, but here are just a few of the things I do recall.

• Set up the St. Bernard-size dog crate to contain the kitten.
• Kitten-proof the room — not a small task.
• Buy everything she needed, especially the food she had been weaned onto, the litter she’d was accustomed to, toys for a baby kitten, and more.
• I had to make sure that Starlight was going to be OK with the sudden return of Melissa.
• Find someone to drive me to New Haven on a Friday evening.  I can’t drive safely at night, nor on interstate highways.

I said many prayers that all would come together in Divine Right timing.

I’m very lucky, graced, in fact, to have some amazing friends who were eager to help and who considered a trip to New Haven to get a kitten a fun adventure.

With great excitement we arrived in New Haven with time to spare, and then had to wait several hours due to train delays.  When Cary finally arrived, she climbed into my friends’ car and we moved a kitten from one carrier to another and took care of all the paper work.

It was a 2 hours drive back to my house.  Melissa had been on the road since about 10 a.m. that morning and we got home close to midnight.  She hadn’t eaten or used the litter box since leaving the cattery.

When I took her out of the carrier, I noticed that she was wet.  She was drooling.  She was limp and not very responsive.  Clearly, she was traumatized.

I put her into the litter box, but she just seemed dazed.  Fortunately, she did urinate.

I offered her water and food, but she wouldn’t eat or drink. This was not a good sign.

Holding her and stroking her and speaking softly to her didn’t elicit any reaction.

I placed her into the warm and soft cat cave I had ready for her, and she just lay there, completely limp.

Because I’m a strong emotional empath, I could feel her overwhelming grief, loss, confusion, and terror.

I already had sprayed the room with Rescue Remedy, and I put some on Melissa.  I had ordered Feliway, but it hadn’t yet arrived.

I managed to get a few drops of water into her mouth, despite her jaws being clamped shut.

For the next 3 days, I struggled to get food, water, and electrolytes into a kitten who was completely overwhelmed and who seemed not to recognize me.

Melissa’s safe space.

Infinite gratitude and appreciation to:

Bob and Nishanto Kane,
dear friends drove me to New Haven to get Melissa.

There’s more to the saga of Melissa.
Look for the next installment coming soon.