Cat Telepathy: Lilith

Aloha once more, gentle readers!

The next few posts will relate examples of the use of sensory awakening for animal contact.

It is natural that I should turn to cat stories for this, having been close to cats all my life. I don’t suppose cats are particularly telepathic – there are plenty of books in print and out of it about telepathy with horses, dogs, and other domesticated species, as well as moments of contact in the wild. But we did not have horses, or dogs or accessible wilderness when I was growing up, because we were in the city. So I got used to cats.

Still, it was only when I was an adult with a cat of my own that the first real event happened. I was home alone. Notice that this means there were no other people in the apartment.  But I did have a cat, named Lilith. I was not as alone as I thought.

It was the end of a hard day’s work, after dinner, and I had been resting in my favorite armchair for some time. I had placed a glass of water on the floor next to the armchair, where if I reached down gently my hand would come straight to the glass so I could lift it up and have a drink. Without realizing it, I was in the state of passive attention in which telepathic contact moments occur.

My tabby cat Lilith strolled around from behind me, gazing fixedly at my glass of water. When she came in front of me so we could see each other’s faces, I heard a woman’s voice in my mind, interrupting my thoughts like one radio transmission cutting across another. It said,

There’s a bug in your water dish.

She stared at me solemnly and walked on. I picked up my water glass carefully.

A Daddy Longlegs spider had fallen into the water. I took glass, water and spider to the door and set it free unharmed. I did not try to contact it, but the simple piece of advice from Lilith had given me the eerie feeling that if I addressed the spider mentally, I might get an answer.

What was apparently Lilith’s voice had referred to my water glass as a “water dish” – the word that I used for her drinking vessels, but not my own. And while Lilith had plainly seen the spider in the water as she walked past it before addressing me, there was no way for me to know there was a spider in my water glass until, at Lilith’s suggestion, I picked the glass up and looked.

It was a vivid piece of verifiable paranormal contact, happening in such an off-hand (or off-paw) way that it would have been easy to miss it completely.