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I have come accross this story while bowsing online.
It touched me in a strange but good way.
I couldn't find a better place to share it than here. I know it will touch your heart too.

"Some might say animals don't have souls and are incapable of emotions. They are so terribly wrong. Animals are fully capable of loving people who are good to them, and can show that love in unexpected, impossible ways. My story is proof of that fact.

I love cats. My son always tells me that cats somehow know I will help them when they are sick or hurt. And in a way, maybe he is right. Strays show up on my porch, seemingly knowing that I will feed them and clean them up before sending them on their way. I always have a little extra flea spray, wormer or antibiotic ointment on hand for whatever doctoring might need to be done for one of my furry friends. And sometimes a cat shows up that stays for awhile before moving on. This story is about such a Cat. He came into our lives as a stray, and stayed long enough to forever change our lives.

My son and I lived in a terribly run down apartment building for nearly 2 years. The apartment building was on the outskirts of a rural town and very near neighboring farms. People from a nearby large city liked to dump unwanted animals in the town, and the farms had a lot of barn cats and farm dogs. Our landlord detested animals. No pets were allowed and he was under suspicion in the disappearance of several neighborhood pets. I heard him brag once about poisoning and shooting stray cats and dogs. So,whenever a stray Cat showed up at our door, I fed them and treated any wounds they had, but they were never allowed in the house because of the landlord.

When we had lived there for about a year, a stray black cat started to visit our apartment. He only came around at night as if he knew he shouldn't be seen. My son told me that he had seen the cat before around an old abandoned house about 1/4 mile from the apartment building. We assumed he was another pet that had been dumped in the country by irresponsible owners. So we fed him, and on several occasions we cleaned up cat fight wounds and got burs out of his pretty sleek black fur. The cat would purr and rub up against our legs and beg to be petted. He was a lovely animal.

Usually we didn't allow ourselves to get too close to strays out of fear of the landlord hurting them, or evicting us. But we bent the rules for this cat. He was special. My son bought him a bright neon pink nylon collar with a bell on it. Using a bright blue permanent marker he wrote "Cat'' on the collar and put it on the black cat. He looked wonderful in his new collar, and the relationship seemed good for all of us. We had a cat to pat and he had food and nightly pats and cuddles, while still being free to cat around as he wished. And the landlord had no clue.

We figured "Cat'' was a good enough name for him - he didn't seem to want something more fancy. Just Cat was enough. Cat made his nightly visits for months, just like clockwork. When it got dark, he would scratch on our screen door or meow until we came out to pat him. If we were gone from home until late, he would wait on our porch until we came home, enjoy his petting and pampering and then go on his way.

A few months later, I decided to go back to college and we had to move from the apartment to live with a relative to cut expenses. My son didn't want to leave Cat and begged to take him with us. I had to be firm with him and say we couldn't take a cat to someone else's home. But every night when Cat came for his nightly visit, I could feel my firm resolve weakening.

Then one night Cat didn't show up for his nightly visit. We waited for him for awhile, and then went off to bed. No Cat the next night - or the next either.

The next evening we started moving our things out of the apartment and had most everything stowed in a moving truck. We were moving out the next day. My son and I were cooking dinner for the last time in our dingy apartment. The stove had never worked right, and I had to light the pilot light in the oven with a match to cook the pizza. We commented on how glad we would be when we lived somewhere that had a stove that actually worked. I put the pizza in the oven and went to sit down at the kitchen table to play cards with my son. The table, paper plates and plastic silverware was just about all that was left in the apartment. The rest was all packed in the truck already. We planned to eat, sleep on the livingroom floor in sleeping bags and leave the apartment early the next morning.

Just as I sat down at the table, I heard that familiar scratching at our screen door. "Cat!!'' My son and I both jumped up at the same time and went to the front door to greet our favorite fur face. We went out onto the porch to love him up. "We were worried about you!'' My son said, as Cat lovingly butted his head against his face. We sat down on the porch and were scratching the cat's ears when there was a bright flash from our kitchen and the gas oven exploded.

The fire department came and put out the fire and the gas company came and shut off the gas to our apartment. Looking at the old stove, the firemen commented that it had mostly likely been an accident waiting to happen. We were lucky to be alive. Our kitchen table was totally burnt. If we had been there playing cards when the stove blew up, we would have been seriously injured, if not killed immediately.

While the fire department was at the house, my son stood in a daze holding Cat and scratching his ears. Without Cat there, my son would have been scared out of his wits.

I made my decision right then and there. We had an old cat carrier from when we owned our own home and had pets. We had to give them away when we moved to the apartment, but I had kept the carrier stowed in our hall closet just in case we ever needed it again. It had been packed into the truck. I opened the back of the truck and took the carrier out.

"Put Cat in the cat carrier and we'll take him with us,'' I said, as my son smiled, excited at not having to leave his friend behind. The golden bell on Cat's bright pink collar jingled as he went into the carrier and my son clipped the door shut.

What had been left in the kitchen area of our apartment was ruined, and rest of our belongings were already in the truck so we decided to just leave that night. The cat carrier sat in the middle of the seat between my son and me. As I put the keys in the ignition, I looked over at Cat and put my finger through the carrier door to scratch his ears. I could hear him purr.

"Yep Cat, you're coming home with us. You saved our lives.'' I said to him, and then started the truck's engine. We waved goodbye to the apartment building as I pulled out of the driveway and up to the stop sign at the intersection with the highway.

Then I saw something that made my blood go cold. On the side of the road was a black cat that had been run over. I told my son to stay in the truck and I got out. The cat had been hit at least a couple days before as the body was already decaying. Around the dead cat's neck was a bright pink collar with a gold bell and Mikey's uneven "Cat'' in blue marker.

I was in shock. How could Cat be here dead on the side of the road, when we had him, pink collar and all, inside the truck in a cat carrier??

I don't even remember walking back to the truck. I opened my door and looked up into the cab.

The carrier was empty.

We firmly believe that Cat came back to save our lives, and then went on his way. One last nightly visit.



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Submitted From: Julie, Kansas, USA "
 

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Ooo!

What a great story........

It would be lovely to think that our pets could come back to visit us :)
 

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Discussion Starter #3
I am happy you enjoyed it, bazsmum.

And I happen to believe that pets and our human beloved ones that pass on do come back and visit us. They aren't but a frequency away at all times.
 

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I really enjoyed your acount of Cat's visit to this side of the Rainbow Bridge.
Sorry about being so late to this thread.
My loyal feline friend Sam, deceased some six years ago, comes back to visit sometimes. He seems to prefer to visit on stormy nights. It's interesting to note that when he was alive he always snuggled next to me or on my lap when it rained, especially during thunderstorms. :luv
You see, part of the abuse that he suffered before I rescued him was that he was kept outside when it rained, and the area where his former owners lived flooded with even the lightest rain.
He seemed to really appreciate having a warm, dry, loving home.
:catsm
I wrote more about this paranormal kitty in the Ghosties thread, in Cat Chat.
 

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An amazing story.. it was a really good story and yetso sad:cry:
 

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Wow, that made me cry. I think that our loved ones (human and fur) are always around us, so I totally believe that "Cat" could come back to help the ones that gave him such love.
 

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Yep, all we need to do is believe in them ^-^
 

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Returning cat

What an amazing, heartbreaking story...I never entirely believed that cats could return like that...
I've had many cats over the years, and maybe a year ago, maybe a year and a half, my brother brought home one that was nothing like any other cat I'd ever befriended. She was a horrible rescue, scrawny, tiny, full of life and vigor though she shouldn't have survived. I've never known a cat like her before, and we bonded very, very strongly. I called her Spiffy, Spitfire. She was grey, and never grew very large. She was more vicious, more adoring, more everything, and nothing like any cat I'd ever met... but one night she started crying like she was in pain, and the next morning screaming, then ran away and we never saw her again. I don't know what happened, but something went wrong inside her...I was lost. God knows I'd never find another cat like that.

A couple months later, my mother went to visit family, and they were just letting their dogs eat their sick, starving, and dying cats. She brought home the one most likely to survive, a tabby we just called Baby Kitty. Again, scrawny, sick, but volatile...oddly, over time, her eyes changed shape and took on the same shape as Spiffy's...she didn't like paperwads when she came to us, but over time, acted exactly towards them as Spiffy...she was identical to her within a couple months, even in the most outlandish ways. It was like Spiffy took over her body. But a few months later, my brother brought home a killer pit bull, and with me five feet away behind a closed door (not knowing the pit was there) the dog killed this little survivor. I've never screamed like that in my life. My mom and I vowed never to have a kitten again, not if this was the way it would end.

But a couple months later again, there were the neighbors, whose cats and kittens adored them. We did not want their cats. For no reason, their little kitten whom I'd never known, stopped going home. I tried to chase it away, took it home to them, yelled, stomped...and I'd go out all hours of the night and morning, and it would be there waiting for me like I was the soul of the earth. It got so cold that finally I took her inside. She hasn't left my side since. She's a little smaller than Baby Kitty, who was a little smaller than Spiffy...a little more vicious than Baby Kitty, who was a little more vicious than Spiffy..and so on for being adoring...and taking on Spiffy's traits. I'd had this cat, Rotten, for less time than Baby Kitty when my brother brought home another pit bull. I felt like Spiffy's soul was truly with me in three guises, which isn't a belief I tend to lean towards!, and immediately moved us hundreds of miles away to protect this little cat. I felt like the pit had appeared just to take this cat away from me. Immediately after I left home, life went downhill there...my brother's girlfriend's partners started appearing, asking for mom's daughter for money!, among other problems. And me and my Rotten are both more healthy and happier right now than we've ever been.
 

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So touching--what amazing stories. Thank you for sharing! Purrs,
 

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Here's a true one for you. My black Persian cat, Mr. Peepers was struck suddenly with coronary thrombosis. It was without warning and paralysed him in his back legs and tail. I took him to emergency but they could only give me meds and pain killers to try and reduce the problem. I took him home and tried to nurse him to health but he only got worse. On the 4th morning, I had to have him put down. He was crying and was having seizures.

I was so exhausted, I barely slept during those days that he was sick. When I returned from having him put to sleep, I sat down in a chair and dozed off.

And for a minute, just the shortest minute... Mr. Peepers was sitting on my lap purring loudly and heathy and happy like always. I reached out and touched him, felt the familiar softness of his fur. And then he was gone.

I will always believe that this was not a dream, it was my baby that came back to tell my good-bye.

Maybe some will say I was dreaming, but it sure didn't seem like it. I guess it doesn't really matter because it felt so real to me.
 

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Growing up we'd always have 4 cats, we were the family that every cat in town knew to come to. Whenever one of them died, another one showed up in the next day or two.. it happened three times. And I know what people mean that they seem to have personalities of the cats that were gone. The timing was incredible and their personalities were always so similar, too. My mom and I have commented so many times how similar they are, we even slipped saying the wrong names a lot of the times (and still do). I can relate to stories like this, and I completely believe them. I love the connection that humans can animals can have.
 
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