This year, I’m striving to engage in more healthy and life-affirming habits. I’m placing limits on my screen time. I’m diving back into some of my favorite hobbies. And I’m going on daily walks through the countryside.
One of my favorite walking trails is 1.6 kilometers long and takes me through cornfields and forests. To reach the trailhead, I have to make a short jaunt along a road near my house. As I walk along the road I see many things.
Sometimes, people wave at me as they pass by in their cars. Other times, dogs bark at me, warning me not to enter their domains. Last week, I saw a dead cat.
Sadly, it’s not uncommon for me to see dead animals on my walks. There are many rabbits and squirrels who don’t have proper respect for the super duty trucks that drive around my neighborhood. They run between the wheels of vehicles driving down the roadway and the ones who aren’t quick enough get flattened.
That said, this was the first time in recent memory that I’d seen a cat. My shock was deepened when I realized that the poor fellow had a collar. This wasn’t one of the feral barn cats who run through my yard like locusts every summer before retiring to who knows where in the winter.
This was someone’s pet.
I should stop here and say that I’m very much a cat person. There are three little fur balls running around my house who are of the cat variety. They knock things off the table, they get the zoomies at the most inopportune times, and I love each of them with all of my heart.
One of our cats, Enso, is of the outdoor/indoor variety. He was a stray when he came into my life seven years ago. And while he appreciates sleeping indoors on cold winter nights, he also wants out in the morning.
Part of having an outdoor/indoor cat is accepting that there’s no guarantee they’ll come home at the end of the day. A wild animal, a loose dog, a speeding car—any number of things could end their life, and their family will never know what happened.
I feel a bit emotional when I think about that reality. But this is the life that he’s chosen and I’ve chosen to respect his decision.
I thought of him as I looked down at the dead cat. It was entirely gray with white paws. Part of me felt relieved that he wasn’t mine. Another part of me felt bad for feeling relieved. As this mix of emotions coursed through me, I thought over my options.
I could start knocking on doors in an attempt to find the owner, but I quickly vetoed that idea. Country folk are friendly, but they also value their privacy. That’s why they choose to live in the middle of nowhere. I wasn’t keen on knocking on strangers’ doors when they weren’t expecting visitors.
My other option was to take the dead cat home and bury him on my property. But that didn’t feel right. I imagined the owner walking down the street, looking for their cat, and arriving at this exact spot after I’d already taken it away.
It was unlikely that they’d ever have closure on why he disappeared. But if there was a chance, I didn’t want to take it away from them.
Out of options, I recited Nembutsu for the dead cat, entrusting his spirit to Amida Buddha and wishing him a happy rebirth. Then I took a deep breath and continued on my walk.
As we move through life there will be moments when the grim realities of Samsara smack us in the face. We are of a nature to be born, to grow old, to get sick, and to die. We are also of a nature to see those things happen to others.
In these moments, Buddhism doesn’t offer a magic pill or a secret incantation to make our pain and discomfort go away. But it does help us accept and embody those parts of life that can’t be changed.
It also provides practices that help us cope with unpleasant feelings, so that we can empathize with the plight of others.
Each of us will run into “dead cats” over the course of our lives—bad situations that we aren’t able to fix. Perhaps it will be a friend who can’t pay rent, a coworker who is laid off, or the death of a beloved pet.
In those moments, we can empathize with the suffering of others by reciting a prayer, wishing them well, and letting them know that we are here to listen.
This is why a daily chanting practice is so important. When we recite Nembutsu, saying over and over again, “I take refuge in Amida Buddha.”
We admit that there are parts of life that are too heavy to bear. And in his infinite compassion, Amida shares the burden with us, lightening our load and lessening our pain.
Namu Amida Butsu
Related features from BDG
Engaging the Six Paramitas to Care for Animals, Part Two: Diligence, Concentration, and Wisdom
Engaging the Six Paramitas to Care for Animals, Part One: Generosity, Discipline, and Patience
Childhood Pets, Animals, and Kindness
The Honey-offering Festival: Commemorating the Service of Animals to the Buddha
