Yesterday I was had a conversation that touched me deeply in my heart and at the same time expanded my perspective on a very special process once again. I connected with a wonderful tomcat who is quietly and noticeably preparing for his final journey.
His human companion was standing at the exact point that so many of us know and fear. She felt this immense helplessness and wondered with great worry what else she could do for him, how she could support him and strengthen his body.
The tomcat gave us a perspective that was so full of wisdom and inner clarity. He shared that he feels his body no longer needs food. That this gradual letting go of food is a completely natural part of his release process. When we humans, out of our love and fear of loss, tirelessly offer new treats because we feel he must eat something, it sometimes brings restlessness into this delicate flow. When it smells too tempting, the animal might eat something after all, even though the body is already in retreat.
When he shared that, my heart squeezed tight for a moment. I know that impulse all too well. I tried everything back in Niela’s final days, trying countless things to encourage her one more time. Out of pure love, and yet out of that human distress of needing to do something. It is not about offering the animal nothing at all, but rather about taking away the pressure and that overwhelming focus.
What touched me most deeply, however, was his very personal wish for this remaining time. He wished so much that his human and he could experience this final phase together with curiosity. He viewed this journey almost like a quiet adventure and was completely open to what will happen, how this process feels, and what he gets to experience on this new level.
This is so much more than just touching. It opens up a whole new perspective on dying and saying goodbye. We humans are often like paralyzed in this phase. We stand in the middle of our deep grief, feeling immense fear of the final moment, the pain, and the emptiness afterwards. And right here, this tomcat gifts us a gentle invitation to perceive this path in a completely different way. Not only heavy and overwhelming, but in awe. Like a wonder unfolding right before our eyes as a soul leaves its earthly body step by step.
His wish was a pure devotion to the trust that nature knows exactly how it works. Time and again, he showed us the image of exhaling. A soft, deep exhale. Letting go, sinking into it, trusting the flow of life. And eventually, out of that, the last breath emerges quite peacefully and naturally on its own.
I ask myself whether I will succeed in this when that day comes for Maja or Ida, hopefully in many, many years. It is human to worry and to grieve. But maybe it is not about managing to do this perfectly the whole time. Maybe it is enough if we open ourselves again and again for small moments to exactly this perspective. For this one moment of stillness in which we do not fight, but simply sit beside our animal in wonder, holding this sacred space.
Perhaps this impulse gives you a small piece of peace to take with you today, no matter where you and your animal currently stand.
As always, I am very curious about what this picture brings up in you. If you would like to share your thoughts with me, please feel free to write to me.
With so much love to you and your animal,
Tanja