Zoe

This is Zoe:



Zoe was born in a shelter in February of 1995, and when we arrived at the shelter in September of that year, we fell in love. By "we" I mean, Heidi and I fell in love with Zoe, and Zoe fell in love with us.

I remember Zoe was in one of three rooms, all of which were filled with cats. I'd say a dozen or so in each room. Heidi and I went into each room trying to pick out a cat. Man, was that hard. We love cats, and there are lots to choose from.

Eventually, I was tired and I sat down in one of the rooms, not sure what to do to pick a cat.

And then Zoe chose me.

Before I knew what was happening, she had started to sit on my lap. And she stayed there. It was as if she was saying, "mine!" She had claimed me. I was her human, and she would go home with me.

When a childless couple like Heidi and me have cats, usually a special bond forms with one cat for each person. Zoe and I bonded instantly.

When we first brought her home, she had enormous paws compared to the rest of her body. She really did look funny. But she also looked so very, very cute. You may think that all cats look cute, and you'd be right, but Zoe is the cutest cat that I've ever seen.

She grew into her paws of course. She learned the wonders of Christmas ornaments hanging low from the tree, the cool space behind the drawers in the dresser, and, of course, the choice real estate of empty boxes.

While we lived in an exurb, she would go outside and have fun. She would love to play with bugs. One time she was playing with a bug, and her older sister walked nonchalantly and without breaking stride scooped up the bug in her mouth, right in front of Zoe. I can't recall for sure, but I think Zoe then found another bug to play with.

Zoe always wanted to cuddle and snuggle. She was afraid of strangers, but once she got to know someone, she would always come over and ask to be snuggled.

And by ask, she would meow and then jump up onto the person's lap. At night, she would routinely sleep in our bed, snuggling one or the other of us. More often than not, I would wake up in the middle of the night, and Zoe would be sleeping with Heidi's arm around her.

Zoe was extremely talkative. When I came home, she said "meow" and I said "hi." Then she said "meow" and I said "hi" again. This went on through several iterations. Any time she saw us again, she said "meow" as if she was saying "hi". Any thing she wanted to communicate to us, she'd communicate with a meow or two. Or three. Or four...

Zoe was, quite simply, the cat with the most love that I've ever known. Her primary vet said in a note, "Zoe is a sweet little girl." Everyone in the vet hospital said, "oh, I love that cat." And that was Zoe. She was a sweet little girl.

And she was my little girl. I've been caring for her and looking after her as if she was my own daughter. She really does mean a lot to me, and she's brought a lot of joy and love into my heart.

Zoe was born with a heart murmur. Heidi calls her, "poor little heart murmur girl." We've been monitoring this heart murmur for her whole life.

Her doctors told us a year ago, suddenly, without warning, that her heart condition was finally going to end her life. They estimated two months, but her death could have been imminent. I think when they say two months, they mean a really good scenario. With my last cat, when they said that, she died a week later.

But we found this wonderful cardiologist who said he could extend her life through medication. He thought perhaps a year.

Well, that year has come and gone. We've had such a wonderful time with Zoe, appreciating so much more every meow, every snuggle, all the times we got tons of cat hair on our black t-shirts, and every time she'd look into our eyes as if to say "I love you Daddy." I'm so glad to have had that extra year and appreciate every moment with her.

A week ago, Zoe stopped eating. She was hiding in the deepest recesses in the house. Her heart was fine. And so were her kidneys, which were at big risk with the medication she was taking. We were frantically trying to find out what was wrong, while force-feeding her, which she hated. But when she'd had a seizure, along with a stuffy nose, we were fairly sure she had a mass in her head. But her heart condition meant she very likely wouldn't survive any attempt to even find it.

Wednesday night she was too weak to jump onto the bed, but I could tell she wanted to snuggle us, which she hadn't wanted to do in a week. We spent about a hour with her in our bed. It was an incredibly precious moment for me and Heidi.

After her second seizure the next morning, after dragging her out from under the bed, she looked into my eyes, and Heidi's eyes, and told us she wanted to go.

And as we were putting her down in the vet hospital yesterday morning, as the anesthetic was being pumped into her, Zoe, while in my arms, looked up into my eyes, and Heidi and I looked back into hers, and we silently told each other goodbye.

I've loved this girl so much, my heart is broken. I'm not ashamed to say I've broken down in tears several times. I don't think anyone other than Heidi fully appreciates what this little girl meant to me. In fact, even I didn't realize it until now.

I'm simply devastated past any ability to put into words. Zoe was NOT just another cat. Anyone who knew her will tell you that. She needed her mother and her daddy, a LOT more than any other cat I've ever known. She had a big heart, literally and figuratively, and she was a sweet little girl.

Rest in peace, Zoe. Everyone loved you. And I don't feel like I will ever get over losing my little girl.

You're Doing It Wrong!

Four years ago, my deceased father, speaking through a psychic, told me that I was a natural writer, and that I have to write every day. It’s like exercise, he said. Without writing, my mind atrophies just like a body would without exercise, although it will still function reasonably. I had never revealed to the psychic that I was a writer. I was an engineer and looked like it, but I was a writer nonetheless.

I took the advice mildly. After all, she could have been lucky. But there was the fact that she was in an audience of about 30 people. She’s reasonably successful, so she has a reputation to uphold. No one, including me, ever said anything she said was wrong. She came right out with me being a writer without being vague.

I look back at the last four years and realize that it’s true. I was so much happier, and my mind so sharper, when I was writing every day. I’d largely forgotten the advice until just a half hour ago. I have been developing my “road map” of my series of science-fiction novels, but not writing. During this time, I don’t feel my mind has been very sharp.

Well, in the words of some of my friends from the left coast, “You’re Doing It Wrong!” Now, even if I’m not “ready” to write something, I will either write something that I am “ready” for, or simply write the stuff I’m not “ready” for, hoping that I will still be able to use it.

Ten years ago, a psychic (this time one-on-one) told me something about my past that was specific and dramatic. You’ll have to take my word for this one, because this is something not to be shared. It is something that very few people experience.

And then she told me that I would be wealthy, and that August would be a good month for me. This was 1999, the heyday of the tech boom, and I had just joined a start-up. Start-ups like this one were getting bought for obscene amounts of money. Well, August came and went, and there was no money. I was soon reminded by others that psychics don’t really have a specific time-horizon. I looked back at what she said, and I realized I had inferred a lot. She didn’t say what year, and she didn’t say I’d become wealthy specifically in August. Still, I really felt the implication was that specific year. The start-up that I had joined ended up going bankrupt.

As I look back now, I realize that August of 1999 had been a good month for me, after all. That was the month I had gotten to know a colleague, without whom, I firmly believe, I would not have gotten my next two positions at start-ups.

From those start-ups, I earned enough money to allow me to quit my career as an engineer and write fiction full-time. But I don’t think I’m done acquiring wealth. More will come as a result of writing the fiction full-time (keep a positive attitude!), still all a result of August of 1999.

Most people I know don’t believe in psychic ability because they say it goes against all western science. They’re just plain wrong.

One specific example is the remote viewing program of the military, where people can actually see what is going on in real time in a remote location. The military has actually executed successful missions because of this.

Very recently, I saw a 60 minutes piece where scientists are beginning to learn how to read people’s minds by detecting brainwaves in an MRI. No wires. They haven’t gotten very far, but they’re getting there, and one of the limiting factors is computer processing power. Our brains have far more processing power than computers.

Now I’d be surprised if the psychics I’ve mentioned here had been reading my thoughts. My experience didn’t suggest that.

However, a blanket statement that psychic ability does not have a foundation in western science is just plain wrong. Before there was such a foundation, how could anyone be certain that western science simply hadn’t discovered it yet? Such thinking defies logic yet people are not logical.

Humans have a tendency to close their minds to possibilities and real evidence that challenge their world-view. It’s uncomfortable to believe that your world-view is not correct, because if it’s not then the world is dangerous in unpredictable ways. We want predictability, and when things go wrong (even minor things like the recent financial crisis), when the foundation we’ve built our lives on (401k retirement) crumbles, we get traumatized. This sense of predictability is not a bad thing—without it we would be less willing to take risk.

Religion serves that purpose and brings certainty to an uncertain world. It doesn’t matter if it’s *right*, just that it serves as a model for us to live our lives and make decisions. Strict atheism is a form of religion when seen from this perspective—if western science has not *proven* something to be the case, then it cannot be.

We can open our minds to many possibilities that are out there. Yes, it is scary to believe in psychic ability, because someone could use theirs to harm us. Yes, it is risky to act upon psychic ability, because psychics could be charlatans (in my opinion, it is logical most are). Yes, it could be a complete waste of time to develop your own psychic ability, because that ability may not exist in you, or anyone, for that matter.

But if you don’t challenge your assumptions, you’re closing off a lot of intriguing and beneficial possibilities.

And if you don’t, I have one piece of advice for you.

You’re doing it wrong!