My name is Diane and I’m a Pet
Ambassador of Hope! This is Gunner's
Never Ending Love Story!
If you have more questions, please join our International Multilingual Animal
Reincarnation Group on Facebook. I
hope our story helps heal your heart and gives you Hope!
Finding Gunner
He was mostly gray…the kind
of steel gray that covers a military tank. He had one full white leg and three
white tipped paws. His body was filled with the blue-tank gray on the upside
and underneath, his tummy was pure white.
He said though I had had many cats, he was MY FAVORITE.
And though I loved my other
kitties too, Gunner was MY FAVORITE. To
say we had a connection would be an understatement. He was my soul. He was my
reason for coming home every night.. And he knew it.
I saw him start to go…I
remember…he was slowly becoming an older kitty. In the year 2008 he
started going downhill…urinary problems, an enlarged heart. Cardiomyopathy. He
began losing weight, my big beautiful tank of a boy…he stopped eating. He
stopped playing. By the middle of 2009 I was seriously realizing that our time
together was severely limited.
I began taking my own interspecies
communication classes so that I could get back to Gunner. Someway, somehow, I
didn’t want to leave anything to chance. My animal communicator had become
indispensable to me then… until I was more practiced at “finding” Gunner on my
own. She became my vehicle for finding him for me.
This one had several photos attached to his profile. I clicked on the
second picture of him, though I was quickly getting bored and I needed to get
back to my meaningless job... Clicked once more onto the third and final
picture of this scrawny, little bug-eyed kitty and got the shock of my life! I
stared…I just stared at this photo.
I felt the “hit” in my gut like
someone had sucker punched me-
I began crying (this is RIDICULOUS!) right there at my desk. Dunno why…something grabbed me and shook me. I looked at that picture again and it was HIM! I swear, staring back at me with the goofiest most wonderful eyes I’d ever seen…
I grabbed my cell phone and I ran downstairs out of the office. The shock of what I had seen threw me upside down…I needed time to compose myself-I needed time to do the unthinkable…confirm or deny what my heartfelt to be true.
When I picked him up, he wailed in the car all the way home. He head butts me for kisses like nobody’s business. He lets me know in many little ways just exactly who he is. He tries to escape outside the confines of his forever home. He sleeps with me every night; falling into my body, into my abdomen at night, making us one together instead of two separate beings.
His name is Chi, the Chinese
word for energy.
Excerpt from the book "I'm Home! a Cat's Never Ending Love Story" by Brent Atwater
Finding Gunner
I found him again…six months
after his death.
Just as my animal
communicator said I would. And she would have known. She had worked with me and
my cats for years. She said my beautiful dark-striped tabby would be back. But WOULD
HE REALLY?? I always wondered about animal reincarnation…I believed
that people would reincarnate; but would my tabby boy come back?
And would I REALLY
I find him…?
He was, simply put, a gorgeous, dark tabby I
had to put down six months earlier. He
was my prince, incredibly gorgeous feral cat that died too soon…a magnificent
animal he was. A cat I was going to adopt from the mean streets of DC; just
because I KNEW he “belonged” with me.
I’d spent three months getting to know him; loving him, expecting nothing in return. He came to trust me. He came to love me. And on that very joyous day that he was to come home with me, on that day
I had taken him to my vet to get him thoroughly cleaned up so that he could finally come home with me for good, I discovered instead that he was riddled with feline aids.
Three times the vet had tested him for aids. Three times his test came back positive. He had been handed a death sentence, living on the streets, long before I even knew him and even as I was becoming his only friend, he was already dying.
I’d spent three months getting to know him; loving him, expecting nothing in return. He came to trust me. He came to love me. And on that very joyous day that he was to come home with me, on that day
I had taken him to my vet to get him thoroughly cleaned up so that he could finally come home with me for good, I discovered instead that he was riddled with feline aids.
Three times the vet had tested him for aids. Three times his test came back positive. He had been handed a death sentence, living on the streets, long before I even knew him and even as I was becoming his only friend, he was already dying.
I never even got to say goodbye to him…he had
already been put down before the vet called me to tell me the news. I was
devastated.
I cried non-stop for three days running. It was October of 1998. Winter was coming and I was inconsolable.
I cried non-stop for three days running. It was October of 1998. Winter was coming and I was inconsolable.
But my communicator said he was coming back…in
March, she said, with all of the rains.
So I went searching for him. In March, I went searching. My communicator stated he would be white with perhaps some gray on him. And when I first saw him in the bareness of that rescue shelter, with all of his siblings already gone to their own forever homes, I decided to visit with him for just a bit. After all, I’d already checked a couple of other shelters and no kitty fitting his color description had appeared.
So I went searching for him. In March, I went searching. My communicator stated he would be white with perhaps some gray on him. And when I first saw him in the bareness of that rescue shelter, with all of his siblings already gone to their own forever homes, I decided to visit with him for just a bit. After all, I’d already checked a couple of other shelters and no kitty fitting his color description had appeared.
I asked the rescue shelter
assistant to bring him out of his cage and she did. She set him squarely on the
floor. He promptly began running in small circles around me. I heard his voice
in my head, “I’m Special!. I’m Special!”
I saw his tuba tummy bounce to and fro as he ran in circles round and round me again “I’m Special!,” he squealed, skinny legs and a tuba tummy bouncing as he ran. He reminded me somewhat of a scrappy little rat- bulging eyes and all.
I saw his tuba tummy bounce to and fro as he ran in circles round and round me again “I’m Special!,” he squealed, skinny legs and a tuba tummy bouncing as he ran. He reminded me somewhat of a scrappy little rat- bulging eyes and all.
I didn’t know for sure WHO
he was… I cannot say with certainty that I knew it was my tabby prince come
back to me…I could not swear it was my lost feral friend. I only know that he came home with me that
day. He came to his forever home yowling in the car every “step” of the way.
I named him Gunner. Like the
steel gray of tank color he was. Strong.
Enduring. And tough…so he
wouldn’t get sick again. So he would not go away again. I named him after a tank.
I couldn’t wait to call my communicator
friend. Is it HIM????????? IS IT HIM!!! She just laughed and said, “Yes, you’ve got
your little guy.” So I listened intently as she began talking with Gunner, aka,
my tabby prince returned.
Gunner told her we’d been
together many lifetimes before. We were together in Egypt during the
reign of Cleopatra. We lived, and died again, during the great plague that
swept England in the mid-14th century. And in the 1900’s he’d lived with me in a big
drafty house.
I was an old woman with a crooked nose. It was a cold house and I always wore a shawl. He loved to play with the fringe on my shawl.
I was an old woman with a crooked nose. It was a cold house and I always wore a shawl. He loved to play with the fringe on my shawl.
He said though I had had many cats, he was MY FAVORITE.
And now, we were to begin our
life together. Again. Gunner and me.
He grew from a scrawny,
bug-eyed kitten into the beautiful, magnificent, arrogant and wonderful love of
my life-
I would sing to him, “Love
ya like rain darlin’---always fallin’---just to pass my way…” ¹
and I sang and sang to him this song all of the time… It was HIS song.
Gunner and I spent many
wonderful years together. But he had definite ideas about how he was to be
treated. For example, I learned to be very respectful of his need for
boundaries, (really now, a cat with boundaries???). Once he actually “slugged”
me with his paw because I came upon him too quickly ready to plant a kiss on
his nose.
He protected me in the most
un-cat like way…Because every time the doorbell rang Gunner ran towards the door.
Growling…grrrrrrrrrrrrr…waiting at the door until I opened it so that he could
see who was on the other side.
He waited at the door to
stealthily creep out into the world beyond the confines of his forever home;
outside into the big world, a dangerous, urban world with cars flying and kids
with pellet guns and raccoons with rabies. Into that world he’d race, with me
running flat out behind him, “Gunner, GET BACK HERE NOW!!”….He
must have remembered his years on the streets in his “before life” because he
fought to get back outside whenever he could.
To this day, thank God that
Gunner never suffered injury or accident from all of his successful escapes
outside. For me, every second he strayed from home brought the fear back into
my heart of losing him again. Too soon. Don’t go Gunny. Don’t…and he didn’t.
He would always return. I
see him as I write these words, walking towards my front door, ready to go back
inside. Walking, arrogantly towards my front door, as if to say, “I’m ready to
go back inside now; what’s the big deal?” I never knew with any certainty whether I
was going to grab him and lick him up, so grateful was I that he was home.
OR, whether I’d beat the living gray and white out of him, so frustrated was I that he’d escaped in the first place.
OR, whether I’d beat the living gray and white out of him, so frustrated was I that he’d escaped in the first place.
Did I mention he was
arrogant? He would flagrantly mis-behave in front of me; RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME.
He’d taunt my older kitty unmercifully, (sixteen years of age she was, and
gradually “disappearing” from her physical body). He’d
climb onto my kitchen counter where a hot chicken dinner was waiting for me -except Gunner got to it first. I will say, that after
he’d finished with it, it was still hot. But that was about it.
In moments of my fierce anger at him I’d swat
him. Fast. Hard. On the bottom. And then he’d come and “kiss” me. Go figure.
What’s not to love about my Gunny. He was incredibly forgiving of my anger and
my discipline after he’d driven me to the brink of tolerance. His forgiveness
was seductive. He’d head butt me persistently for a “kiss”, after his
escapades, even as his bottom must have been smarting from the backhand I’d
just dealt it. His willingness to “kiss” and make up enabled me to breathe
deeply of his smell-his baby-all-boy-cat smell.
He loved me like no other
kitty I’d ever known-…he dropped his body into mine every night at
bedtime…flopped right into my stomach he did, and stayed all night. His padded paw, in the midnight hour, would
stroke my cheek so softly I thought I was dreaming it. Until he’d start licking
my face. Until I woke up, in the midnight hour, to see him gazing so intently
at me…I love you, his eyes would say. I love you too Gunny.
And he WAILED ALOUD every-time I
left the house-WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH (oh geesh! The neighbors can hear you,
Gunner!) So that whenever I left home
for a few days I would always tell him how many moons until I came back. I always came back. Home was wherever Gunner
was.
What more is there to say?
My Gunny and me…so often looking into his liquid gold cat eyes and thinking the
worst…when WILL I lose you this time…? I know it sounds horrible but that
was the place in my heart where my worst fears took me. I desperately clung to
a life with Gunner. I clung too much. I know. That’s what love does when you’ve
lost it once and it comes back to give you a second chance. My life with Gunny
was our second chance. Or at least the only second chance I could ever remember
having with a soul that mattered as much to me as his did.
So that when the end DID come
I almost wasn’t surprised… Because, in
my life, I wasn’t used to things turning out the way I’d wanted them to.
I packed him off to the vet.
He
HATED going there. I always knew why he hated it. It was where his
short life ended THE LAST TIME. And he knew this. Still I took him. Because I
didn’t for a moment believe he couldn’t be fixed.
He was simply too young to
die. No matter. He died anyway. It was his time to go. And when I could no
longer deny that it was his time to go, I let go too. I gave up.
I remember our last night together. He knew it
was our last…how gently he wrapped himself inside my tummy and lay with me that
night. He licked my wicked teary face; he didn’t leave my bed.
And the next day, packing
him off to the vet for the last time, I sang to him as I watched him go
softly…even as I shut down inside…I sang to him “Love ya like rain darlin’…always
fallin’…” with the tears that interrupted my voice in song, I wept…and
he slept. He left.
When he left I started
falling…falling bad. Such denial. So distraught. Each day, after Gunny left, I,
got up out of bed. I went to work. I came home, I paid my bills, I even forced
a gaiety over the holidays that I never once really felt. Even as I went through all of the motions of
living, in reality, I just shut down.
Gunny. Come back.
It was December. It was
cold. And I felt hopeless without my cat. People thought it odd…my inability to
just “get over it”. But I ignored them. I didn’t care what they thought. I
didn’t care much about anything.
Until…in desperation…I
decided I had to find him. I knew I had to find him. And I knew it could be
done. After all, why else was I working with my animal communicator all these
years, if not to find my kitties and “be with them” over and over again.
After his death, my
communicator contacted Gunner. He told her that on the day I’d let him go, he
had gone to sleep and had woken up in a large, beautiful green field on the
other side of rainbow bridge. The field he woke up in had many other cats in
it. He said he didn’t know that he was dead. But he expected all of the other
cats in the field he woke up in to bow down to him (yes, that’s my boy…)
The other cats had to
explain to Gunner that he was dead. Once he understood that was no longer on
the earth plane he stated to my communicator that he knew he had a job to do on
the other side.
He said it was his job to be there for all of the kitties crossing over rainbow bridge that didn’t know they were dead yet. Just like him. He would tell them the truth. He would be there to guide them after they woke up on the other side.
He said it was his job to be there for all of the kitties crossing over rainbow bridge that didn’t know they were dead yet. Just like him. He would tell them the truth. He would be there to guide them after they woke up on the other side.
I remember, with a real wariness, asking my
communicator if Gunner was coming back-I was terrified of the answer. And I had
reason to be. He would not be coming
back anytime soon, said she.
Several years in fact, before he came back. He told her we had much
spiritual work to do apart . His job on
the other side was important. And my job on this side was to stay on the path
of animal spirit-without him.
My communicator consoled me
with the statement that he WOULD BE coming back, one day; and
he would ALWAYS be with me in spirit until then. And I believed her. I believed him.
Despite my grief over Gunner
I still had three other cats to care for. There was Butler, Talia and my
roommate’s sweet boy, Rowdy. So I knew I
had to keep going, whatever that meant. After all, my entire world was off
kilter with the loss of Gunner. My world was dead-upside down. All wrong.
Completely wrong and without meaning.
I remember that I started
working with my communicator and our local animal shelter to set up an animal
communication workshop; one-day workshop that would allow people the
opportunity to learn how to communicate with their own animals.
Setting up the workshop would require my effort and focus to bring it about. I made a decision to begin classes with another communicator so that I could begin learning the art of interspecies communication.
I even “found” Gunner once in a bittersweet attempt to “see” him.
Setting up the workshop would require my effort and focus to bring it about. I made a decision to begin classes with another communicator so that I could begin learning the art of interspecies communication.
I even “found” Gunner once in a bittersweet attempt to “see” him.
One cold night as I sat in
front of the fireplace, I focused deeply on grounding myself in preparation for
connecting with him. He came to me in a very clear vision. He was “herding” a group of cats, way up
there…he was so beautiful…he said to me, “Why are you so sad?” And I cried, “I want you HERE-please come home.” He disappeared from my “vision” as quickly as
he’d arrived.
After that, I didn’t want to
“find” him anymore… What good was it really, when it was only the length of a
heartbeat that I saw him; just a wisp of a breath of time I was “with him”…before
returning to a concrete and meaningless world without him…Despite this, I slowly
started to accept that I needed to be very patient. I had faith that one day,
he’d be back.
And he did come back.
Against everything I’d been told by my communicator; against all odds and
opposition, and to my complete and utter amazement to what I believed would NOT
happen for years-he came back.
It was six months after his
death that I found him again…
It was April of this year,
with all of the rains coming. I was at work, causally browsing the adoptable
kitten website attached to the rescue shelter where the animal communication
workshop was to be held.
As I aimlessly “wandered” through
the website of countless pictures of adoptable kitties, I would click on a
kitty picture, just to look. I wasn’t looking for Gunner. He wasn’t coming back
for years. But I was bored at work-the meaningless life I was living was more
pronounced at work.
I’d not been happy with my work for several years; long before I lost Gunner.
I’d not been happy with my work for several years; long before I lost Gunner.
I remember clicking onto
various kitty photos on the rescue shelter website. Some of the kitties had
multiple pictures. None were as beautiful as my Gunner. I clicked onto a picture of a tiny, striped
orange tabby kitten. A tiny orange-stripped nothing of a kitten.
I began crying (this is RIDICULOUS!) right there at my desk. Dunno why…something grabbed me and shook me. I looked at that picture again and it was HIM! I swear, staring back at me with the goofiest most wonderful eyes I’d ever seen…
I grabbed my cell phone and I ran downstairs out of the office. The shock of what I had seen threw me upside down…I needed time to compose myself-I needed time to do the unthinkable…confirm or deny what my heartfelt to be true.
I was afraid to say it. But
something incredibly unforeseen and unexpected was miraculously happening.
There was only one person that I felt could confirm or deny what I felt I knew
in my heart of hearts!
I called my communicator. With every nerve in my body spastic and my heart up in my throat, I called her. “Please”, I said, “tell me if it’s HIM?” She replied, “It’s HIM”. In fact, he told her, (in that arrogant, matter-of-fact Gunner way), that he wanted to know what I was waiting for and to go get him immediately! So I did.
I called my communicator. With every nerve in my body spastic and my heart up in my throat, I called her. “Please”, I said, “tell me if it’s HIM?” She replied, “It’s HIM”. In fact, he told her, (in that arrogant, matter-of-fact Gunner way), that he wanted to know what I was waiting for and to go get him immediately! So I did.
When I picked him up, he wailed in the car all the way home. He head butts me for kisses like nobody’s business. He lets me know in many little ways just exactly who he is. He tries to escape outside the confines of his forever home. He sleeps with me every night; falling into my body, into my abdomen at night, making us one together instead of two separate beings.
Chi, aka, Gunner, is home. I honestly cannot state that this happiness I
feel inside with his return is anything other than the contentment of knowing
that my world is right-side up again.
Some people experience an
incredible, overwhelming joy with the return of their reincarnated pet. My
“joy” with Gunner’s return is the knowledge that all is well. My world works again. I have meaning in my
life again. I found Gunner. Again.
