It Takes Two Days to Get to Heaven 

It takes two days to get to Heaven. I know this for a fact now. Let me tell you my story and you’ll see what I mean.

When Julie and I were in our very early twenties, we were living in Winter Haven in a small townhouse development on the Chain-of-Lakes, right next to a very busy road. We had decided to throw a party one weekend, and to make it really memorable, we decided to make it a toga party. Kegs were procured, togas were made, plastic was laid (yes, PLASTIC was laid). Our little two story townhouse was rockin’ on New Year’s Eve that year, and right in the middle of it, Sheera arrived on the scene.

Sheera was a tiny little kitten that had been dumped by some scumbag who had figured she’d get squashed by some New Year’s Eve partiers on their way out somewhere, but she didn’t. Instead, she had climbed up to eye level on our screen door and was screaming her ass off for someone to let her in. Every time I turned around, she was either on the screen door, or Julie had already let her in again and she was hiding under her toga. This kitten MIGHT have been 6 weeks old at the time, but had a will that I’ve never witnessed, before or since. Determination like that deserves to be rewarded, so we decided to keep her. Keep in mind that WE didn’t adopt Sheera, she adopted US.

The three of us were inseparable, and we shared a bond that went much deeper than the usual pet-owner affection. She was our child. We were so young then, we still feel that we all grew up together. This little cat never got any bigger than 6 pounds at her zenith, but she ruled every neighborhood we lived in until we finally felt that it would be unsafe to let her run loose outside any longer. Our little town had quadrupled in size by that time, and we couldn’t bare the thought of her getting hurt because we weren’t responsible enough to take care of her. Even our Vetranarian was afraid of this little buzz saw, but she loved us unconditionally, and we could feel it emanating from her in waves. We learned how to communicate with one another, and looking back I often wonder exactly who taught whom. Many times since then, I’ve shown other people how to communicate with their cats, and they were amazed at how intelligent and emotional these creatures really are.

Anyway, we moved many times over the coming years, and Sheera went everywhere we did, or we didn’t go. When Sheera was about 15 years old, she began to lose her hearing, so I taught her to come to a flashlight when she’d get lost in our new home at night. This worked great and she lived to the ripe old age of 18 and a half. Her mind and will were still strong, but her little body just couldn’t go any further.

While I could write volumes on how cool she was, and all the things we saw and learned together, this story is about how long it takes to get to Heaven, so I’ll get on with it now. I just wanted you to know how tight the three of us were.

When Sheera was ready to pass on, she let us know it was time. We’ve never had children, and this was the hardest decision we’ve ever made. It’s been a couple years now, and I’m still getting all misty trying to write this now. We found a local vet who was recommended by a close friend and took her there. The Doctor has a great reputation as a cat lover, and little Sheera had never been on better behavior.

We found out that her kidneys had failed her, and she’d have to live at the vet’s with an I.V. for the rest of her life, or it was time for her to go. Such a regal creature would never choose to live that way, so our decision was made for us. We were left alone in the examination room for about 45 minutes to say our goodbyes, and then it was done. They had given her something for the pain, and she was very relaxed when the doctor had to do the final deed.

We cried for hours. It was like losing a child for us. Everywhere I looked I saw something that reminded me of Sheera, and Julie faired no better. We’d just break down out of the blue and become totally incapacitated for hours at a time. Night time was the worst.

On the fourth night, it happened.

We had cried ourselves to sleep, and I was sleeping like a fallen log, when suddenly I opened my eyes, and Sheera was on the bed with us and was touching her nose to mine, like she always liked to wake me up. I was startled at first (like I always was when she did this), but didn’t put it together right away that this was impossible. For a few brief seconds, all was as before. Then a huge feeling of love filled the room and I could tell that she wasn’t hurting anymore. She was looking right into my eyes and I could feel her telling me that she was OK now, and was in a better place.

I woke up right after that with a tremendous sense of relief and joy. I was crying tears of joy when Julie woke up and asked me what was going on. I told her and we both could feel it. Sheera had come back to comfort us in our time of need and despair. I know it sounds crazy, but I swear we could feel her there with us.

Exactly four days later. That's two days to get there, and two more to get back to let us know that she was OK now.

The next day, we were still sad over our loss, but somehow it seemed easier to bare now. We also felt a sense of joy knowing she was OK, and someday we’ll see her again. I thought “Take good care of her, Lord, but know that someday I’ll be wantin’ my cat back”.

We thought we’d never have another pet, but for some unknown reason we turned into the Hillsborough County Animal Shelter one day and looked at the kittens. There was one little tiny kitten who saw us and immediately started jumping up against her cage and yowling for attention. Any time we’d try to look at another cat, this little one would raise hell until we went back to her cage and picked her up. Again, the cat chose us instead of the other way around.

It’s been two years now, and I swear that I see Sheera in there every once in a while. We have two cats now, but that’s another story for another time. I know there’ll never be another Sheera, but I also know now that she’ll never truly be gone, either. Never let anyone tell you that death is the end for any of us – I’ve seen otherwise, and if you’re lucky enough, you may too.

Thank you Sheera, for all you brought to us. You enriched our lives in a way that few could comprehend, and fewer still will ever experience. We always said you were 50 pounds of love in a six pound package.