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Oh, he was handsome.  Kind of an aloof air; you got the impression he didn’t need you but he might let you worship him.  He was mysterious, hard to fathom.

Chubby, too, not my style.  A big round head.  In fact I had to lift with my knees but I adjusted mentally, the way you do when you’re attracted to someone.  “You’re actually solid muscle, aren’t you,” I whispered.  He blinked.

It wasn’t really until the second night when he made himself at home on the duvet, not quite on top of me and yet I couldn’t.  .  .  quite.  .  .  move.  .  . that I knew he was charismatic; he was the kind of man who called the shots and you just let him.  What else could you do?   I lay there awkwardly, thinking, “he likes me!!

Rescued from the Humane Society, rumor had it the Redhead was a former farm boy who’d spent his days outside.  When we met years ago he’d become an indoor cat, and I found him perplexed to be in the new situation, as though he wondered how in the world he got there and what all these people were about.  He wasn’t fully connected to the family and I thought maybe I could help.

So I gave him a little healing.   We cleared the energies of his prior life so he could be present with his new people.   When we met he was unable to leap up on the counters–he had to be lifted to the kitchen counter where his food was safe from the dog–but after the reading the family began to find him on top of the fridge, where he’d navigated without help and does to this day.

The disconnect?  Gone.  He’s like the sun, and the family are planets.  They adore him and in return he cheerfully bestows his many gifts  upon them all.

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