Does Anyone Believe In (cat) Reincarnation?

[Bongo103]

I lost a cat named Schmitty about 1 1/2 years ago to kidney failure, he was 15 a sweet boy. Recently I took a job as a Concierge at a new apartment complex with 400 plus residents. Theres a small white dog in the building that cries for me as she passes by the desk. I have never really interacted with her or given her treats. One day I just had this strange feeling it was Schmitty reincarnated. It took me by surprise. Now when the owner passes by I say hi Schmitty quietly to the pup and her little face lights up and she just gets wiggly. I feel I'm otherwise normal but this is pretty strange.

 

[KD1SQ]

I am in no way a religious person. Perhaps agnostic in brief moments of weakness. The kind of person who believes that faith without proof is nothing more than self-deception. I do not begrudge others the comfort of their faith - whatever it may be - but not for me. Thanks.

That said, let me briefly tell you why I now believe in reincarnation - as a rationalist and doubter I demand hard evidence of claims - a remarkable individual has proven to me that it exists by showing me unarguable proof of the fact an individual may die in the body but his essence/personality lives on and can return if it chooses/qualifies to do so.

Twenty years ago, a few months after when my wife and I met, she brought with her a 15 year old large (20 to 25 lb.) black tomcat built like a cinderblock named Bubby to live with me (later to be with both of us when the wife moved in.) Bubby and I introduced ourselves to each other and struck up an amicable relationship immediately and he settled into a home routine instantly.

Over the first year my (wife to be 3 years later) joined us on a fulltime basis and we became a family, so to speak - her, me and Bubby. During this first year Bubby showed many, many unusual facets to his nature that are not normally found in cats, dogs or people. I won't list them right now, suffice it to say that I had never ever known an individual like him that hadn't been another human being - he was an entire education in itself.

At the ripe old age of 22 years Bubby passed on. We (and our grandchild) were hugely saddened by his passing It was exactly like losing a human family member. (No, we're not sentimentalists and we treat our pets well but they are pets, not people. Bubby, on the other hand had earnt every right and privilege as a person that he was accorded by force of his character, deeds and behavior.)

I remember well saying to my wife jokingly that if anyone could come back it'd be him, Bubby.

Fast forward two years - my wife and I had moved 400 miles northwards to the Maine border with New Brunswick. We had cats - and a dog - and although we loved them they were still pets - Bubby had set a very high standard for humans, much less animals, to aspire to.

A cold day in December. We lived in a the middle of a little line of houses stretched along a small road off the only real through road in the area. Quiet, rural, low population density.

We're in the kitchen, there comes a gentle scratching at the door. We're used to the neighborhood cats being around and we think it's one of them. Pat opens the door and there's a medium sized but solidly built black and white cat standing there foursquare looking up at us. Half a minute passes, we say "Hi" and the newcomer walks into the kitchen, grabs a mouthful of kibble from the cat bowl and then goes upstairs into our bedroom, settles down on the bed and takes a nice long nap. No nervousness, no uncertainty, just endless self confidence and knowing exactly what he's doing.

We adopt him, of course, and we named him Mister P. To us at that point he seems to be yet another of the many strays that need a home and well, we have space.

A few months go by and we start noticing that his behavior is very distinct from that of most cats. He guards the home, the livestock and Pat against all intruders. He's the disciplinarian of the domestic pets (he quickly taught the household dog that dog is not automatically the top place holder in the pecking order,) he patrols the neighborhood and acts as a gracious but aloof diplomat to the neighbors.

We learnt that he was born about two years earlier in a town 12 miles south of us, taken by a local trapper/farmer's son a few miles for us and lived all of his life in a chicken pen as rodent control. No domestic life, hardscrabble all the way.

I observe to Pat "Where the hell did a feral cat learn all the social graces that he (meaning Mister P.) displays? He ought to be a semi feral barn cat at best!"

Within the next year we see that he is displaying all of the characteristics and habits that Bubby had. One thing that he did clenched it for me - Bubby would always go out with my wife first thing in the morning as protector and companion. Being Bubby he couldn't do it just by strolling along with her - he would lie across her shoulders and guide her attention to things he thought should be seen by tapping on one side of her neck or the other to get her to look in the desired direction.

The first time Mister P. jumped up on her shoulders, completely without having to be asked to do so, my wife cried. A few days later they then started going out in the morning and, yes, Mister P. would steer her and point out things of note to her just as Bubby did.

We had a strange cat who came and found us, came to our house out of all the houses on the road and who went on (unexpectedly by us) to completely fill the gap left by our loss of Bubby. A cat who lived like a barn cat with no socialization or softness in his life for the first two years of it.

A brief list of a few of the habits that Bubby and Mister P. shared -

Guardian of Pat - Bubby faced down a catamount back in Vermont, put himself between Pat and it and dared it to come get her while Pat beat a hasty retreat. The catamount declined to attack either Pat or the crazy cat in front of it. Always with her, always looking out for her. Same with Mister P. - he guarded her whenever she went out. He also had a nonagression pact with a local Lynx and kept it from decimating our birds. As did Bubby.

Both love spicy Indian food - the hotter the better.

Both know and hate traps of any kind - they both nose out traps like Hav-A-Harts and bounce up and down on them until they spring them in order to protect their animal tribe.

Bobbles on clothing are an abomination and must always be torn off.

Cat toys are weakeners of the feline and, again, must always be destroyed the moment they come into the home. (No, not by playing with them, just single minded destruction of an enemy object to be done as quickly as possible.)

All dogs that threaten or bark are dealt with quickly and efficiently. Size does not matter, the cat always wins. A Rottweiler owner who liked to let his dog roam onto Bubby's property with a long leash was dismayed by the size of the vet's bill for sewing his dog's undersides together after it made the mistake of thinking Bubby was just another cat. (Owner was an ass who deserved it.) Mister P. has the local dogs well under his control.

Both protect homeless cats and kittens (which is interesting because common lore says that tomcats kill kittens that are not their own) and bring them to us for care and outplacement.

A weird one - both will take care of the young of other species (skunks, ermine, things like that) but birds, fish, reptiles are fair game.

Ambassadors for the household with other humans but although friendly gestures are appreciated the human is never allowed to actually touch the cat. This is undue familiarity and a possible source of danger.

A love of large vehicles and heavy construction machinery - endlessly fascinating, nothing is better than finding a nice vantage point and watching them go by or do things.

Great disciplinarians in their cat family. Nobody is allowed to beat up on anyone else. If someone does, they're quickly punished.

Behavior which is more easily explained by human terms than animal - an example is that whenever another feline household member lets out a "serious distress" cry the chief will come a-running, see the victim, realize that there's no huge danger and then looks disgusted and gives the crier a good swatting for crying "Wolf!" Talk about "What the hell did you do that for, you idiot?"

A presence in general that is cool, calm and collected no matter what is going on. A bit like a hybrid of John Wayne and Chuck Norris.

Never run into a fight, walk into your foe and lead with your left.

And never lose a fight.

When talking to them there is definitely someone home.

Okay, enough. There's a small part of why I believe it's possible to come back at least for some. I know we have someone who is on a mission of some kind. He has a job to do and it probably involves Pat. I'm happy to watch and learn.

 

[KD1SQ]

Ah, one additional note - Mister P. escaped from the pen - he was not allowed his freedom, he escaped and came to us.

We learnt this when the guy that had him originally saw him and said "That's my cat!" Then we learnt the tale of his early days.

Needless to say, we disabused him of any notion that he might ever take Mr. P back...