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Early weaning comes up from time to time.   For awhile it was an obsession: how do I approach this? I began to treat more and more cases.  I began to think, I have to figure this out.

But as an animal communicator it’s not my job to figure things out.  It’s my job to let the solution come. It’s a big difference and one I learned repeatedly, the hard way.

I treated a kitten who just wasn’t thriving.   The feral queen was present but desperately unhappy in captivity.  She was committed to disposing of the kittens so she could put an end to her confinement.

I went over it and over it.  Hm.  Behaviors common to the early-weaned.  Why are they different?  What would the mother cat impart, that’s missing in the early-weaned?   What kind of problems might that cause, and why?

For perspective, I changed tack:  what if you isolated a human infant; what would it not get that it needed, to have a reasonably happy life?  Well, you could study that thought for the rest of your life and not come up with an answer you could live with.  How was I supposed to resolve it through the eyes of a cat?

St. Francis attends every reading.  I call him in and he appears near my right shoulder.   He’s extraordinarily tall and comes through like a long brown column.  His voice is deep, but soothing.  The animals always seem to know him and he responds to each one differently, with respect to their personalities and preferences.  I often take him for granted; I have not yet integrated him fully as a healing partner.

On this day he’d been standing by patiently but now he was done.  While I was obsessing he ran a cord from himself to the kitten.  Done.  I looked up at him.  What’s that?

“It’s an umbilical cord, Katie.”

As I watched, I saw all this “How to be a Cat” stuff moving through the cord.  Now and then I saw “Mother Love”.

Oh.  Right.

I didn’t have to know what the kitten needed.   I could ask for help and I could trust, and it could all work out in spite of me.

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