Animals & Reincarnation

Do our animal buddies follow us throughout our lives, once a cat, then a dog, then a hamster or some wild bird that roosts in our backyard? This is one area where a past life regression probably won’t yield much information that you can check through Google. But I suspect there are clues here and there that may be telling.

We recently posted a piece about a kitten we’re fostering for our daughter until she finds a roommate who isn’t allergic to cats. I put the post on Facebook and our friend, Vivian Ortiz, remarked that the kitten might be a reborn Kali. Vivian is intuitive when it comes to animals and it got me thinking.

Kali was a dusky conure that graced our lives for five years, from 2000-2005. She was a lover, a cutie, smart and sassy, and we gave her a lot of freedom.

She spent most her days under a tree in our backyard, on top of her cage or perched in the tree she called home. Every evening, we brought her indoors, where she snuggled into her little house and slept until dawn.

Then in October 2005, Hurricane Wilma ripped through South Florida as a category 1. It stalled over Wellington, the eye was directly over us. When you’re in the eye of a hurricane, you can walk outside into sunlight and blue skies, so that’s what we did.   In addition to the destruction to our yard – trees down, plants ripped up, fence down, screens ripped away – the tree where Kali had spent her days had split down the middle. It was as if some giant had come in with a huge machete and just chopped it in half.

At the time, we didn’t see it as anything other than another piece of destruction.

As the storm started moving again, we hurried back inside and waited for the backside of the hurricane. It was worse than the front of the hurricane. But fortunately Wilma sped up and an hour later, was gone and had left a lot of devastation in her wake, including power lines. We didn’t have electricity for 10 days.

As we were cleaning up the yard and house in the aftermath of the storm, we moved Kali and her cage outside, close but not under her decimated tree. She got spooked by the sounds of the generators that we and most of our neighbors had started up and flew off. We ran after her but lost sight of her. We searched for her until dark, when a cold front moved in.

The next morning, Rob got up at dawn and went looking for her. He found her across the street, huddled under some leaves, and brought her home. She was obviously sick, but no vets were open. Nothing was open. She died that evening, when I was holding her against my chest, and we buried her under her tree. That tree, eleven years later, is huge and beautiful, completely healed.

Vivian had met Kali several times. She came with us on a number of our road trips and spent time on Vivian’s porch on Tybee Island, where she was fascinated by the salt marsh and its diverse wildlife.

I was bewildered initially by Vivian’s comment that the kitten might be Kali. But the more I’ve thought about it and observed the cat – how she plays, how she interacts fearlessly with our dog (which is at least a thousand times her size), with the other cats and with the people around her, I think Vivian may be onto something. The kitten doesn’t say, Hola or Hello or any of the other words Rob taught Kali, but there are times when there’s a look in her eyes that reminds me of Kali.

It’s a look that is curious but stately, playful and fun, knowing and wise. Kali, like the kitten, was Megan’s animal, but we inherited her. A friend on Facebook suggested, half-jokingly, that we should call her Sanders because of our support for Bernie. She responds to the name, so that’s who she is now. Sanders, who may be a reincarnated Kali. She’s now at Megan’s house, and has been renamed Piper, which really does fit her.

I sure wish she spoke English. I’m still hoping to hear Hola or Hello! But in lieu of spoken words, it’s her eyes that capture me, intrigue me, make me whisper, Hey, Kali, is that you?

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