We, as well as our dear friend Lisa, put up rain-protected flyers all over the area with his description (extra digits on his paws!), we went door to door all over the neighborhood, put up flyers at vet offices, went to both animal shelters 1-2 times a week looking for him, put ads in the papers, and said lots of prayers that where ever he was, he was happy and at peace (we weren’t sure about the coyote factor).

A day or so later, while on the internet, looking for suggestions on how to find your lost pet, I stumbled upon a professional tracking service.  I called him, almost on a whim, but he said he could drive right up with his two dogs who work all over the world and who have found buried earthquake victims, murder victims (these dogs were on a Discovery channel show about what they do) as well as many lost pets.  How could I say no?  We wanted our beloved pet back.  His tracking dogs traced Buddy’s steps down to the lake (Buddy is attracted to water….coming from Hawaii he’s got instinctive “fishing” genes), along the lake, then across the lawn to the driveway of a just completed new house right on the lake, where the scent abruptly “disappeared”.  But the dogs gave the signal that there was no smell of trauma or death.  The tracker said it could mean the Buddy went into a vehicle that drove off (construction worker’s truck bed that had a lunch in it?? who knows).  That was that.

Meanwhile, Lisa knew of an animal intuitive (very “under the radar-not advertised”) whom I did call and who tuned into Buddy and conveyed many messages from him to me, of a soul level nature.  Buddy “told” me things through Mandy (who didn’t know me previously) that were perfectly attuned to what was going on for Buddy, me, as well as Jenna and regarding other things besides this physical separation.   There was a deep meditative quality to the messages, beyond the animal instinctive-physical plane.  I would consider sharing them with any who are truly interested.  That was an amazing piece.

A month ago I had a call from a young college man, home on a break from Berkeley, staying with his parents just a few houses down from where we formerly lived, saying he thought he saw a cat that looked just like Buddy’s photo on the flyer, twice. He likes cats a lot and he wanted us to get our cat back, his dad said.  I spent time going back and forth, different times of the day, talking with my former neighbors as well as the lovely family who bought my house.  No Buddy.

After that I just kept checking the shelters weekly, checking the “founds” in the paper and Craig’s list, and, even though Jenna or I would just start crying at times, in grief, and profoundly missed his presence in our family,  I was working in an inner way, to “let go”, surrender and accept what was, our cat was gone physically—maybe to coyotes, maybe adopted to a new family, maybe still “out there”—but he was still a strong presence energetically, with us.   Through working with Mandy, the messages were to just Trust.  Trust that whatever and however it played out, the Love, the connection was still there, and that how it unfolded, to have him back physically or not, was ok, had purpose, and that this whole process had meaning and was part of an unfolding.

Then, four days ago or so, I had a call from a lady who lives on a small lane in a house right on Lake Whatcom, about halfway between our old house (where Buddy was sighted) and the house he was lost at.  She had just noticed our flyer TWO days earlier (after two months out, I was even surprised the flyers were still up).  So I drove down there and walked up and down the lane, calling his name, putting out cat food, but no sign, stayed about two hours, then left, after speaking with two other neighbors on the lane who also had seen a cat similar to the photo I carried with me.  I couldn’t get right down by the lake shore where the cat was really seen because it was on private property and at that point I hadn’t been invited.

Also, I’m sure an animal on it’s own, especially a cat, must travel a good range to find adequate food and safe shelter.  The cat could have been half a mile away when I was calling out and offering food.  And a cat on it’s own would wisely be in an extreme state of survival and not come running easily when in that state.
In the next few days I went back and forth, the ten miles between our house and the area, as well as “talking” to Buddy, asking him if he was ready to rejoin us.  Then, two days ago, I was at the Humane Society, doing another “lost cat check”, finished and went out to my car, feeling defeated.  As I just sat there a thought came into my mind, like someone whispered an idea to me, to go back in and ask them how they catch the many cats at the shelter.  I did, and besides the cats that people just bring in, they told me they use live animal traps, and that they were for rent!  So I got one.    Then, awhile later, another idea like a whisper in my ear…… I remembered that Buddy LOVES watermelon and mangoes….what can I say, he’s from Hawaii.

I called the neighbors at the sighting and one of them, Nilah, was so kind and helpful, saying I was welcome to come set up the trap on her deck and she would also help me, having had cats before, and having caught feral cats as well.  We set it up with the mango and fragrant watermelon I brought, then I sat outside, around the corner from the deck.  My goal was just to see the cat, just to determine that it probably wasn’t Buddy, as had happened before.  No sign of an animal for over an hour.  Nilah brought me some delicious homemade tomato soup, to warm me.  The sun set, it became very chill, and I left, driving up the lane, then pulled over to take a call from Jenna.  Right after, my phone rang again, it was Nilah!!   She said, “We have a cat!”.  I went right back to her house, flew out of the car as she was saying, “And he’s got extra toes!!”.  Then I lost it, crying, ran around the corner, and there was Buddy in the cage, totally freaked out by being trapped, all his survival instincts exploding out….but safe and whole and just THERE!

I hugged Nilah over and over, then drove Buddy home, phoning Jenna on the way, and she couldn’t stop crying for joy, and kept phoning me back, then I phoned my son Nate who was waiting to hear— he was so happy and had been so sad that Buddy was missing too…. Then Buddy and I were home.   I sat down on the floor with him until Jenna got home. Talking with him, he calmed down so quickly….he couldn’t get enough cuddling and energy (me too!), the purring was nonstop, and then he would go eat more food (the vet said he lost over 3 pounds, a lot for someone who only weighed 13!), then more cuddles, then another snack, then more and more cuddling.   Jenna came home and held him and held him and Buddy stuck to her like glue.   He follows us everywhere and slept peacefullly on Jenna’s bed, and only woke me at 6:30 this morning. Buddy and I speak to one another from a whole other place.  I call him Sir Buddy Binky, the Lion-Hearted, a brave and true cat.      We are a happy family.

Marlena–Vancouver, B.C.

I had spoken to Ian several times by phone – a clipped English accent and a fairly brusque manner. He was going to sell us bees at a reasonable price, but we didn’t know what to expect. Was all of this going to be a rip-off, poor quality stock to match the bargain basement rates?

Then one sunny morning in early May a small group of us made the journey out of the city to pick up our new bees. We were excited but also apprehensive.

Meeting Ian in person made all the difference. He was comfortable in his bee yard and he put us at ease right away. A solidly-built, middle-aged man of medium height, Ian had a broad smile and a twinkle in his eyes. Obviously his telephone manner was reserved only for the use of that instrument.

We put on our bee gear and he explained how we needed to conduct ourselves among the industrious inhabitants of this new domain. Then he led the way to the boxes of new bees.

We stood around him in a semi-circle, watching as he slowly and patiently opened each box. He was checking that each had a queen bee, so vital to the future health of our colonies. When he found each one, he would hold out the frame so that all of us could make her acquaintance.

The mood was magical – Ian speaking softly, the mid-morning sun warming us, and the air around us filled with bees on the wing. The soothing hum of many hundreds of the tiny creatures had the calming quality of a meditation session. The bees seemed to accept our presence among them and continued on with their busy lives of gathering nectar and pollen. We felt at one with the surging vitality of insect life and close to a fruitful and productive earth.

Since then our bees have prospered and proliferated – excellent value for our investment. Our first meeting with Ian had been auspicious, and our first meeting with the bees inspirational.

Dave–Toronto, Canada

At work, one of my co-workers fell ill, and I and another man took over her work while she was on medical leave. We worked early and late hours together to make up for her absence, and during that time, became very close. I realized that I was falling in love with him, but he and I were committed to our marriages. I felt horrible for my unfaithful feelings.

My guilt turned into insomnia, and after a few nights my husband asked me to sleep in another room so my restlessness wouldn’t disturb him. Eventually, I became so wound up that I began night walking along our country road, often for hours at a time.

My dog, a beautiful four-year old border collie named Starbucks, went with me—surprised and pleased to get the extra exercise. I would walk until exhausted enough to fall asleep, sometimes until dawn.

One day, after several months of this pattern, I went down to the basement to do the laundry and found in the washing machine a pair of muddy, wet jeans. My first thought was that my husband must have been working in the garden, gotten wet, and thrown his jeans in the wash for me to take care of. But when I pulled them out, I found my own sodden sweater and socks. And I remembered….

My walks had taken me repeatedly to the river, which was swift with spring rain. Early one morning, I remembered watching the river flow by, and filled with sorrow and guilt, stepped in. The first few feet were shallow, and then I would have hit deep, white water. But Starbucks ran beside me on a spit of land, and launched himself, hitting me full on with his body, knocking us both into the shallow water and mud. It was a karmic slap; I came to, and we struggled out of the river. There on the bank I fell asleep until he woke me, frantically licking my face and pulling my sweater. It was barely above freezing. If he had not awakened me, I might have died.

Until I found the clothes, I had no memory of what had happened. And in that moment, I realized how unhappy I was, how lucky I was that Starbucks had saved me, and that I very much needed help.

That was fifteen years ago. I did get help and, soon after, left my husband. I moved away and eventually found someone with whom to share a deep and abiding love. I’ll never know how Starbucks understood I was in danger, or figured out what to do. Sadly, I never saw him again after I left the farm, and he died of illness just a couple of years later. But he gave me a tremendous gift of life, and the awareness to use it well. I know that angels come in all shapes and sizes, and somewhere, there is a medium-sized, black-and-white angel still walking along a river, keeping an eye out for his mistress.

Susan–Maui, Hawaii

This is a story of Grace.  The Grace given to me and my husband to see the beauty of love and it’s healing qualities in all forms.

Our family (my husband, myself and our 85 lb. Labrador Sheppard mix, Fresco) joined a Pet Therapy group at our local hospital.  We were encouraged by a neighbor who recognized our dog’s gentle manner as a perfect fit for the program.    We instantly loved being a part of this important work and landed on visiting the Children’s ward as Fresco was so well received by the kids.

Our usual routine was to check in with the nurses station prior to “making the rounds” to learn of any special requests or rooms to avoid (these were children too sick to receive a visit from a furry friend).  One evening we learned of a three year-old boy that had been mauled by a pit bull.  We were familiar with the case from the local news.  That evening, we made special care to avoid the boy’s room or even going within eye’s distance as the nurses were concerned with the boy’s reaction of seeing dog after such a tragic event.

On our next scheduled visit, two weeks later, we again checked in with the nurses.  This time the nurse looked at us, and then at Fresco and said “let’s try something”.  I’m not sure what she was thinking because we never discussed it with her, but my sense was that her intuition was telling her something.  My mother was a nurse and I learned that nurses have special intuition when it comes to healing.  She led us to the play room where the three year old boy was playing.  She stopped us just outside the door and asked us to wait.  A few minutes later, she returned with the boy by her side.  She told him he had a special visitor.

At the first sight of the boy, my husband and I were shocked.  This little toddler had well over 50 stitches on his shaved head.  In that instant, not sure how the boy was going to react, we held our breath.  And then, with the joy and innocence only children possess, he grinned from ear to ear at Fresco.  All the time Fresco had been sitting and sat completely still as the toddler waddled towards him.  When the boy arrived, he flung is little arms around Fresco’s neck.  We were relieved that the little boy had seemed to forget the trauma he had endured just a short time ago.

Then, the beauty of love and healing happened just before our eyes, Fresco gently and so carefully began to lick the boys head.  It was as if each deliberate movement was an act of healing, of love and forgiveness.  In that moment, I thanked God for the miracle we were witnessing.

We continued visiting the hospital for years after this experience and our interactions with the hospital children were wonderful and meaningful.  In retrospect, I often feel as though my husband and I were only there to provide transportation for Fresco.  And that all the healing work was being done by him.  We were mere witnesses.

This gift of being witnesses to so many miracles and healings has been one of the greatest gifts from God.  We are grateful for the Grace bestowed to us through our loving family member, Fresco.

Ellen–Big Island, Hawaii

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