This weekend, Amy Likins of All One Yoga & Wellness was hosting another juice cleanse.
I had also made plans for my parents to keep my kids Cade & Connor for the weekend, so my husband Dan & I could tackle the VERY large task of cleaning the boy's room and finally getting Connor out of the crib.
This, and since I try to mesh the theme and intention of my classes with Amy's, I planned on a cleansing practice for Saturday Jan 15.
I came home after work on Friday to a house abnormally quiet, because the kids weren't around. I went about my normal after-work routine, peppered with some partner yoga practice brainstorming with Dan. He and I were in our bedroom, and suddenly heard a yeowl and a skittering noise coming from the opposite side of the bed. I looked over the bed and saw our tuxedo cat Yin, all four legs sprawled, eyes wide, tail puffed out like a bottle brush. "Is he having some sort of a seizure?" I watched as Yin shuffled under the bed, stopping with his rear still in view. I pulled him out from under the bed, and lifted him into my arms. As I sat holding him on the bed, his body was simply limp. His pupils were slightly responsive to changing light. Pinching his ears and toes elicited no pain response. Yin was nearly catatonic. "I think he's dying," I said. Dan agreed. Together we made the difficult decision to not seek veterinary care. It was late on Friday; we would have needed to drive to the Emergency Clinic. We didn't want a panicked and vain attempt of intervention to be Yin's last moments. We decided to let him go. I held him for a while, then gently laid him on one of our dog beds, and covered him with a blanket. The following morning he was gone. Jojo had slept beside him through the night.
Yin was only 9 years old. He was one of a litter of orphaned kittens we found in our neighbor's back yard. It was Pepper who alerted me in the dead of night the kittens, only about 4 weeks old, had managed to crawl to our doorstep. I have no doubt Pepper was surprised at Yin's arrival on the Rainbow Bridge. Our cat Zoi is Yin's brother.
Yin's nickname was "Slick," not only for his sleek shiny black fur but for his catitude. We also called him "the kitpy" -half kitty, half puppy. He and Jojo were best buds for many years. Yin would have been the high school quarterback that wore a black leather jacket. Too cool for school, Yin was. Yin was Dan's favorite cat.
Of course we know that with Yin's passing, someday his alter ego, his universal counterpart will come into our lives. We know someday there will be a Yang. We know who will guide Yang to us.
Take care, Yin. We miss you and love you.
I had also made plans for my parents to keep my kids Cade & Connor for the weekend, so my husband Dan & I could tackle the VERY large task of cleaning the boy's room and finally getting Connor out of the crib.
This, and since I try to mesh the theme and intention of my classes with Amy's, I planned on a cleansing practice for Saturday Jan 15.
I came home after work on Friday to a house abnormally quiet, because the kids weren't around. I went about my normal after-work routine, peppered with some partner yoga practice brainstorming with Dan. He and I were in our bedroom, and suddenly heard a yeowl and a skittering noise coming from the opposite side of the bed. I looked over the bed and saw our tuxedo cat Yin, all four legs sprawled, eyes wide, tail puffed out like a bottle brush. "Is he having some sort of a seizure?" I watched as Yin shuffled under the bed, stopping with his rear still in view. I pulled him out from under the bed, and lifted him into my arms. As I sat holding him on the bed, his body was simply limp. His pupils were slightly responsive to changing light. Pinching his ears and toes elicited no pain response. Yin was nearly catatonic. "I think he's dying," I said. Dan agreed. Together we made the difficult decision to not seek veterinary care. It was late on Friday; we would have needed to drive to the Emergency Clinic. We didn't want a panicked and vain attempt of intervention to be Yin's last moments. We decided to let him go. I held him for a while, then gently laid him on one of our dog beds, and covered him with a blanket. The following morning he was gone. Jojo had slept beside him through the night.
Yin was only 9 years old. He was one of a litter of orphaned kittens we found in our neighbor's back yard. It was Pepper who alerted me in the dead of night the kittens, only about 4 weeks old, had managed to crawl to our doorstep. I have no doubt Pepper was surprised at Yin's arrival on the Rainbow Bridge. Our cat Zoi is Yin's brother.
Yin's nickname was "Slick," not only for his sleek shiny black fur but for his catitude. We also called him "the kitpy" -half kitty, half puppy. He and Jojo were best buds for many years. Yin would have been the high school quarterback that wore a black leather jacket. Too cool for school, Yin was. Yin was Dan's favorite cat.
Of course we know that with Yin's passing, someday his alter ego, his universal counterpart will come into our lives. We know someday there will be a Yang. We know who will guide Yang to us.
Take care, Yin. We miss you and love you.
RSS Feed