A yowl from the Great Beyond

It has been eight days since Tess died, and I have missed her every minute of each of those days.  I talk to her constantly, sometimes out loud but mostly inside my head, and see her shadow everywhere.  Because something is better than nothing, I've been looking forward to her kitty spirit making an appearance.  This is perhaps not so odd as you might think because I have form in this area. 

About a week after the late and still much loved Suggs departed for the next world, I was comforted several times by the feeling of him flopping his full weight into the bend behind my knees when I was in bed (this was his favourite place to sleep and, believe me, there was no mistaking this for anything but the sensation of a large and very substantial cat snuggling in).  In the first six months after his death, I clearly would hear the sound of cat biscuits being crunched in the kitchen at regular intervals.  When Tess came to live with me, there still would be the occasional crunching sounds even when she was nowhere near the cat bowl. (Tess didn't seem to mind that Suggs occasionally popped in for a visit; in fact, one of her favourite places for a while was in the back of the garden by his grave.) 

So, I have had every expectation that Tess too will make her presence known.  And today, she did; however, being the contrary cat that she was, it didn't take the form that I was expecting...Mornings are hardest, and I've taken to getting up a bit earlier than usual so that I can have a good cry before I need to get on with the day.  This morning at about 7.30, I was sitting on the sofa missing Tess and talking to her about how sad I was without her, just sort of rambling, really. I was well into the flowing tears/blowing of the nose phase of the conversation when I heard a buzzing sound from across the room.

I had no idea what this was - I thought it might have been a fly that got itself stuck in the spider's web on the window - but then realised that this was the sound of my mobile phone turning itself on.  I've had this phone for over two years and it has never ever done this before....I had an immediate sense of peace and a strong sense of Tess's presence, although I did feel a bit silly as I checked the phone just in case she had maybe managed to send a text....And then, later on after my shower when I was looking in the mirror to comb my hair, I noticed a splotch on my cheek that looked suspiciously like a cat's paw print.  I moved the mirror into the brighter light by the window and damned if there wasn't the shape of a clear paw print on my left cheek.  My girl had come back to say hello.

I kind of thought that, when the time came, she'd announce herself by a yowl or two, especially at 4am.  Or maybe by the sound of slurping water as she had yet another interminable drink.  What I wasn't expecting was for her to use technology.  If I had known she liked that sort of thing, I'd have let her have a go on the iPad.

 But then again, she was her mummy's cat; and if I'm Gadget Girl, why would I be so surprised that my cat reached out to me through one of my favourite gadgets?  Such a clever cat!  There'll never be another one like her.