Healing with Willow

Healing with Willow

As our cats become elderly, they gravitate closer to me. Our sweet, sixteen-year-old cat, Willow has become not only my work buddy, but one of my healers. I think it must be my witchy energy that has drawn the elderly felines to my side. They sense that I have the power to navigate the darkness in a way that not everyone does. That, when it is their time, I can help them embrace that darkness. Much like when my mom was dying, it feels as though I am a midwife—only instead of helping a soul be born into the world, I am helping a soul transition out of it. Luckily, unlike with my mom, I have had the honor of seeing Willow age slowly. Those who have lost any loved one young or prematurely knows what a gift that is.

Willow is the first cat that my wife, Michelle, and I adopted together. Something in me knew that Michelle had to be the one to name her, and she certainly did pick the perfect name for our little lady. We adopted Willow as a kitten right after we were married in 2005—the special name was a beautiful way to celebrate this new season in our lives, for a willow tree is, “A symbol of fertility and new life. A willow branch can be planted in the ground and from it, a new tree will grow in its place. Its ability to grow and survive is powerfully symbolic and shows how we can thrive even in challenging conditions” (tree2mydoor.com).

Our lives have changed many times since then, and as everyone does, we have faced many difficult conditions over the years. The past year or so have brought some especially challenging times as we faced rapid changes. Since the pandemic, we now both work from home in a small, two-bedroom apartment. Also during that time, we have drastically changed our lives and faced some old wounds in an effort to heal ourselves, body, mind, and spirit as we save to buy a home. I truly can’t imagine having to go through this challenging time without this warm soul by our sides.

It’s been beautiful to see Willow change through the seasons of her life. From day one, she was a very vocal creature; that is something that has not changed, and I love that about her. When she was a kitten, we used to call her Velcro kitty because she would race around the apartment and “land” by sinking her claws into the woodwork of the doorframes. Only, she could never get herself free, so we had to help unstick her. Like both of us, Willow has PTSD. She was a sensitive soul to begin with—timid about unfamiliar noises. That skittishness was manageable in her first couple of years because we understood anxiety well and naturally had a calm, quiet household. When living in an apartment, you can never control everything, but we did our best to make her feel safe. However, when we were moving from that apartment, she was all alone in an echoey room as we made a ruckus with boxes and furniture. A tired, well-meaning friend chased her around and around the room trying to get her into the carrier. Sadly, she went from a sensitive, timid girl, to being utterly terrified about most everything. We have continued to do our best to make her home feel as safe as possible, but apartment living doesn’t always make that easy.

When we lost another one of our cats, my soul sister, Kristy, asked me what she had taught me. That question has forever changed the way I think about my relationships with everyone, both feline and non. Willow has taught me so many things. Through learning how to love an anxious soul, I have learned patience. Seeing her grow less fearful as she ages, I have learned not only how strong we all are, but that what we humans might believe we need to heal, is not a necessity after all. We can and do thrive in conditions that are not perfect, like Willow has in all of the apartments we have lived in. In fact, it is often through being forced to live in those conditions that we see that we were more powerful than we thought.

She has helped teach me about how lovely the cycle of the day is. Each morning begins with a shrill meowing in our faces as she lets us know it is time to rise and give her milk. As a little old lady, she needs her calories to maintain her weight, and she just doesn’t eat as much as she used to. After some trial and error, we found that the best choice for her was lactose free milk.

Our workday can be the most challenging part of the day. I’m an author, editor, and tutor and need a lot of quiet and solitude to focus. Michelle works in IT, and her phone is constantly dinging. She has frequent meetings and phone calls; being stuffed in a tiny office together isn’t always easy, but we are grateful that we both get to work safely from home during the pandemic—something that others have not been so fortunate to have. As we always have, we make this situation work. Willow, however, can add to the challenge.

It is usually when I am deepest in my thoughts and most focused that I feel her little paw tap me from the windowsill near my desk. I can’t help but smile, even in those moments where I just want so desperately to maintain my focus and finish my task. How can I be upset with such a sweet, loving creature? The truth is, usually I can’t. Most times she ends up halfway on my keyboard. The tap of that little, white and gray paw is a gentle nudge to remind me to sit up straighter and stop leaning into my screen so much. To take a break. That things will always get done in time and that nothing is so serious that you can’t take a moment to show some affection. Willow helps me heal.

When I see her basking in the late afternoon sun that streams into the kitchen window, she reminds me that it is almost quitting time. Time to relax and enjoy my family. In the evenings, when Michelle and I aren’t at the gym, we enjoy cozy suppers together and enjoying our favorite shows. While she wanted nothing to do with it when she was younger, Willow has become a lap cat at times. Each night before bed, giving her and her sister, Storm, fresh water marks the end of my day. I am grateful for the simple rhythm of my day with my little family of four.

Over the years, I have also taken notice of how alike Willow and Michelle are. Sweet and gentle. So unlike my own fiery personality. I suppose that spirit knows just what we need to heal ourselves—perhaps the most important thing that Willow has taught me is how to see my wife. To embrace how different we are and how much we compliment one another instead of telling myself I don’t deserve this kind of love. Much like the willow branch that can thrive in the ground, Michelle and I have been blessed to grow and thrive together, alongside some lovely cats, and Willow has helped us heal together. As we work toward owning a home, we can only hope that Willow will be there to experience the milestone with us.