Six weeks in and our first tragedy.
A gentle tap on the front door early on Wednesday morning the 25th July by the land owner didn’t prepare me for what was to come. A cat with white paws and a white tummy had been knocked over and killed, was one of ours missing?
Well neither of them were missing up to that point, Brian, the one who fitted that description perfectly had made his exit as per his usual routine late the night before and he was due home at any minute.
Denial is a brilliant thing and allowed me to be full of bravado and nonchalance as I walked down to the front gates to investigate. At that point denial was replaced with reality and bravado and nonchalance were replaced with gut wrenching sadness, tears and upset as beautiful Brian lay sleeping but lifeless by the front gates.
This was tough, really tough. Brian was Kirts cat and we had him only because Kirt was unable to take him when he moved out. Of course we saw him as our own and he had become so at home in Gladys and really embraced our new way of living. His funny little ways, his hiding places, his fat tummy which was certainly on the wain, laying stretched out out on the windowsill, his Brian-ness was just lovely. And he was really loving life with us in Gladys out in the open.
Poor Kirt, I had to wait all day to let him know because he had a big meeting in the morning and I didn’t want to spoil it for him. I also had to stay ‘up’ as I had clients to see and Alistair taught me many years ago you have to learn when to stay ‘up’ to do what needs to be done and when you can let go. So I wailed before work, asked the shamanic animal world to allow Brians spirit to become part of the great lower world where he may become an animal guide or power animal, got through the day and then wailed again as I broke the sad news to Kirt and Pippin and Hannah.
The loss of Brian has had an unusual effect on me. Candace always says Im weird about death. And I am. I have a set of beliefs that serve me and have served me really well and, over the last few years especially, through the sudden loss of a couple of very dear friends my beliefs and values in my shamanic practice have held me steady. But little Brian, this one has sent me reeling even though I still hold firm in my beliefs. Time really is what is needed, time to adjust, time to miss him and time to stop waiting to hear him clatter up the fly screen door and in through the hole where the door handle goes.
In shamanism, according to the sacred direction of Grandmother Moon energy of the West, death is to be honoured, highly. Because in honouring death you can fully honour life. That works well for me and reminds me to honour All life, quite simple really.
So I will celebrate in my memories the Life of Brian, as Kirt said, ” Mum, think about all the joy that Brian brought to us all and even though its really painful if we hadn’t of had him we would all have missed out on the joy that he gave”. Kirt, I couldn’t have said it any better myself.
Living With Gladys Full Time 
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