Remembering Finn: the Unicorn of Cats

Posted on February 19, 2020 by Weekend Homesteader

It was a day like any other, yet it was very different. Within a few months of each other, we had lost our two sister cats, Pup and Jaz, at age 14 both to renal failure and decided the best way to heal our hearts was to put our love into others cats that were up for adoption at a local no-kill shelter. We decided to adopt 3 kittens, our logic being if one got sick and passed, we'd always have two...one for each of us. Made perfect sense to the grieving heart.

The shelter had a few locations of adoptees. The first one we visited garnered us two sibling kittens, bother and sister black tabbys, who we promptly named Oliver and Tiger Lily, Lily for short. But we were still looking for our third. We were sent to another location, not far from the first one, located in a retail pet store chain. There they were, all in their cages in various stages of sleep or play. All seemed happy or at the very least content, however a little red and white boy caught my eye all the way on the end. While my better half was already playing with a beautiful long-haired baby girl kitten (he has a thing for the ladies), I was pulled towards this sad boy in the corner. His name was Tangerine and he had a herpes eye infection. I inquired about his story. It seems he and his brother, Rocky, were rescued from a dump site and vetted at our no-kill shelter before being placed for adoption. His brother was adopted quickly, as kittens often are, because he was healthy. The adopter did adopt two kittens but didn't want Tangerine because of the infection. I picked him up and kissed him. He looked at me with such sweetness and stretched out his arm with tender care and touched my face. I walked him over to my lady-killer partner and said, "This is the one". He placed the beautiful girl back in her cage, surely to be adopted by sheer virtue of her looks, and he held Tangerine. Well...the rest is history.

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Once home, we renamed Tangerine Finn...Finnigan Shamus formerly. He was timid from the very start and it never changed. He had a sweetness I've never known with any other cat. As our limit of three cats as our maximum grew in time to seven, he remained the untainted sweetheart of the tribe. When we'd throw the fuzzy mice for the cats to play, the tribe would run one after another galloping up and down our halls each pouncing to attack it's prey. Once they were finished, Finny would gently walk over and kiss it. Often he sat with a statue to Buddha we have in our house in what would appear to be silent meditation. He fought with no one, never meowed, and was dedicated to love in all his interactions with us. His loving energy was actually palpable. He showed his love by turning his head upside down which we came to call his "flippy show". This flippy show was our greeting every day upon our return home from work. His purr was so loud and comforting that over time I found I couldn't fall asleep without him on my head, which he had grown accustomed to doing. It became his happy place. He was a man of few words, little effort, and the largest source of love in our household. We declared him a martian, not from this planet and he was placed in our path and home making it rich in rewards.

Several weeks ago we noticed his eating was off and he was coughing a bit. We found out he had heart issues and life expectancy would be short. The night of his diagnosis while he stayed at the vets office for further tests in the morning, I had a dream of him. The dream was so real I could almost swear it wasn't a dream at all. He was sleeping with me, as he always had and was purring as he always did and smiling, radiating his health. I knew that morning it was my sign he would pass soon. He passed within a month of his diagnosis. Eight years is too young to lose a cat, but I remind myself it's not the quantity but the quality. The depth of our affection for each other was so deep and eternal that sadness is not dictated but rather gratitude for being blessed with his incarnation. Sweet Finn has crossed over the Rainbow Bridge sharing his tender messages to all he greets. He was the Unicorn of all cats...loving, patient, delicate, magical, devoted and transcendent. If all cats were like Finn, everyone would have 20 and want more. That's his legacy and we were so blessed to have been a small part of it.

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About the Author:

Rev. Cheryl Caruso, PhD Candidate, CNC, APP is a Board Certified Holistic Health Practitioner, accredited by The American Association of Drugless Practitioners, a Professional Member of The American Association of Nutritional Consultants, a Polarity Therapist, as well as an Ordained Interfaith Minister, a graduate of The New Seminary, chartered by The Board of Regents of The University of New York and a CBD Educator and Senior Director for Kannaway, a Division of Medical Marijuana Inc. . Other professional affiliations include The American Association of Holistic Health, The Coalition of Natural Health, and The Association of Interfaith Ministers. Rev. Caruso has been a student of A Course in Miracles since 1995, and has been living a life based on the principles she teaches for over 25 years, counseling patients in her practice since 1998.

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Category: Dogs & Cats, Miscellaneous Stories Tags: Animals, Cats, Personal Stories

Remembering Finn: the Unicorn of Cats

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