You know, I used to think this was all a "crock of s***" -- until I watched it happen right in front of my eyes. This happened years ago, when I was "babysitting" a wonderful elderly cat for dear friends who were in the process of moving cross-country.

I had Sopie with me for several months, and she became sick. Hauled her off to the vet, where the diagnosis was less than optimistic. Within the next few weeks, she began to fail very rapidly, and after numerous trips to the vet, I finally was told that "it was time." Her owner was aware of the situation, had given me the freedom to do what needed to be done, and I spent half the day on the phone, trying to find her. Finally called her hubby's company, they reached him in the air (he was a pilot and they patched me through to him), and he was able to locate her and have her call me. She drove straight here and arrived late that night; thankfully, Sophie held on, and I am sure she was waiting for Sue to get here. Sue got on the phone to her pet psychic, and was told that Sophie had known for a long time that she was ill, wanted to be released, promised to come back to Sue again someday, and had picked a replacement out of my herd of cats for Sue to take home. THAT was the part that stunned me -- the only cat that Sophie had permitted to be next to her was a small black female cat that I had rescued the year before!!! I called her Jemimah, and she had come with kittens (which I subsequently found homes for) and had a wonderful, gentle temperament. (Sophie and Jem sat together for hours on end in my recliner; Sophie ran all the other cats off if they tried to come up.) Sue was also told that Sophie wanted to be taken to the vet on her favorite blue blanket. I didn't own a blue blanket, which is when I went into "crock of s***" mode again -- until I realized that the cover on my recliner was slate blue, and that is where Sophie sat with Jem all the time. Then I had to sit down, HARD.

To make a long story short, Sue and I took Sophie back to Dr. Dave, where he put her to sleep and released her from her suffering. (I took her out to our farm and buried her next to all my other little guys.) Sue left the next day, complete with Sophie's things, the slate-blue cover, the kitty carrier, and Jem tucked comfortably inside.

Jem has since been renamed Princess Kitty, although she will always be "my Jem" -- she was a jewel in disguise when I found her, and I didn't know then what her purpose was to be later on. She lives in the lap of luxury to this day, and has even swiped one of Whiz's coolers for her own blanket! (Whiz is Sue's Grand Prix Dressage horse, and won the cooler at the Devon Horse Show.) That little cat has excellent taste!!!

Anyway, that's the story of Sophie and Jem, and I now pay much closer attention to what my critters are "telling" me now. It has paid off -- I feel that my relationship with my little ones has increased in pleasure and understanding for all of us. It's nice, because I had this same relationship with my horses, had missed it, and have now found it again, albeit in MUCH smaller animals!