Loving Zak

I had the most remarkable dream last night.  A dream unlike I have ever had.  A dream just hours after learning that my beloved 11-year-old cat Zak died suddenly, most likely of a heart attack.  I was not with Zak when he died.  He was at a “luxury cat boarding” facility, a facility we had only used once before.  Zak and Sarah were there so Rob and I could quarantine on the Oregon coast in celebration of our anniversary later this week.

In my dream, Rob and I were in our living room.  It was filled with soft, natural, bright light that was white like it was reflecting fog outside.  I didn’t look out the large windows to notice the weather.  But I did notice that the light in one of Zak’s favorite rooms was relaxing and calming and peaceful.

Rob was in his recliner.  I was uncharacteristically sitting on the floor in front of my recliner.  Sarah, our girl cat, came into the living room, happy tail and ready to eat.  I smiled and said to Rob, “I guess she is going to be ok.” 

Sarah and Zak had never been apart for more than an overnight stay when Sarah got spayed.  They were litter mates and life has always included the other.  In my dream, I was clearly aware that Zak was dead and our concern was now how Sarah would respond.

As I relaxed watching Sarah’s accepting demeanor, Zak appeared from around Rob’s chair.  He nonchalantly but purposefully walked behind me, brushing his 15lbs of fur and girth against my back.  As Zak jumped up on the couch in front of me, I looked at Rob, astonished.

“Amazing things can be done with the right equipment,” he shrugged with a smile.

I immediately popped up off the floor and joined Zak on the couch.  He was now stretched out, presenting his belly for rub, a request that happened multiple times daily in real life.

As I moved in to start petting Zak, I turned my head and looked at Rob.

“This is a dream, isn’t it?”

Rob didn’t say a word but his resigned but encouraging face confirmed my statement and urged me to take advantage of this very literal answer to prayer.

I began to run my fingers through Zak’s dense, soft black fur.  He was warm and silky.  As I ran my fingers over his sturdy body, I gathered up fur between my fingers like a hair stylist does when they are getting ready to trim. 

I spoke to Zak.  I told him I loved him and that he was an amazing cat and that we were so lucky to be his people.  I told him I was seeing him right now because God was answering my prayer just hours before, a prayer that I got to see Zak one last time, to touch him one last time, to talk to him one last time, to love him in the flesh one last time.  One last time so that my last memory of Zak wasn’t the frantic phone call from Jo at the cat boarding place, hysterical with words I never want to hear again.

I got to be with Zak on our couch for only a few minutes.  He rolled around and purred and made sure I scritched all the right spots.  He let me love him and he loved me right back.  I soaked in the moments, entirely present with Zak while also entirely aware this was a dream.  And a gift.

As Zak rolled his head upside down so I could scratch under his chin, his face changed from pure black to white and gray.  I was staring at his newly grey nose when the dream ended and I woke up.

I absolutely believe that God answers our prayers.  Every time.  Often the answer is “no” or “not yet” so it seems like he’s not listening or not really there.  But then there are times when he answers “yes” almost immediately, in a way even better than what we asked for, in a way that envelopes us in his love and his exactly right care for us.

Thank you, God.  Thank you creating Zak.  Thank you for allowing Rob and me to be his people. Thank you for the perfect answer to my prayer.  Thank you for love.

 

Zak 11 years ago, clearly taking over

The best lap kitty

A hunter and a toy hog