A Cat’s Journey

The young cat set his foot on the path of life. "Is this the long way," he asked? And the guide said, "Yes, and the way is hard. And you will be old before you are at the end of it. But the end will be better than the beginning."

But the young cat was happy, and he would not believe that anything could be better than these years. So he played with the family. The sun shone on the young cat and he cried, “Nothing will ever be lovelier than this."

Year after year, he showed them compassion and understanding. But most of all, he showed them unconditional love.

The days went on, the weeks, months and years and the cat grew old and became little and bent. However, when the cat would lay down at night and look up at the stars, he would think, "This is a better day than the last.

When the way became rough for him, the family lifted him and gave him their strength - just as he had given them his. One day they came to a hill and beyond the hill they could see a shining road and golden gates flung open wide. And the cat said, "I have reached the end of my journey. Now I know the end is better than the beginning - for my family has walked with me with dignity and pride. The family said, "You will always walk with us, Great Cat - even when you have gone through the gates." They stood and watched as he went on alone and the gates closed behind him. And then they said, "We cannot see him, but he is still with us, he is more than a memory, he is a living presence."

Our Cat will always be with us. He is the whisper of the leaves. He is the smell of the grass.

He is the meow when you're not feeling well; he's your breath in the air on a cold winter's day. He is the sound of the rain that lulls you to sleep, the colors of the rainbow. He is Christmas morning. Your cat lives in your laughter. He is crystallized in every tear drop. He's the place you came from, your first home. He is the map you follow with every step you take. Nothing on earth can separate you ... not time, not space or even death.

Do not stand at my grave and weep

I am not there. I do not sleep.

I am a thousands winds that blow.

I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning's hush,

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry.

I am not there. I did not die.

mary elizabeth frye – 1932