Sometimes I feel really foolish talking to my cat in that singsongy, “Who’s a good girl?” kind of way. She knows, No. 1, that she’s not a cat. She knows, and I know, that she chose to be in a cat body for this incarnation because I would probably get more out of her wisdom if she were my “pet” rather than my pastor, or my rabbi, or my husband, or my Ph.D. advisor, or my mother, or my editor, or my boss.

The problem is that so much of the time, I forget she’s my teacher, and I treat her as if she were an animal, and because she is the wiser of the two of us, she plays her cat role beautifully. She has the patience of a sphynx, and she waits for me to wake up.

I asked my friend Chris, who trains veterinarians, if he thought animals, particularly cats, were higher beings. He said, “I wouldn’t go higher or lower. We’re all just chemical combinations.” 

But how is it, I continued, that when I’m feeling blue, both my cats (Bo, my orange little girl, and Higgs, my overweight tabby) know? They jump up and sit on either side of me and stay there. They don’t purr. They don’t lie down. They don’t even look at me. They flank me like they are bodyguards keeping the enemy, which in this case isn’t a guy with a gun, but negative energy, at bay.

I asked Google if animals have spiritual consciousness, and I wasn’t surprised to learn that there is a new consensus that a wider range of animals, such as insects, fish, and octopuses, are likely conscious, which is a big shift from the traditional view. A declaration signed by 40 researchers states that there is a realistic possibility of consciousness in many animals beyond mammals and birds. I read that the cleaner wrasse fish appears to recognize itself in a mirror, suggesting self-awareness. 

If you saw the movie “My Octopus Teacher,” you know that octopuses have problem-solving skills, and react to pain and anesthetics. And I learned that bees have been observed playing with objects as if they were little kids. I love bees, and I think local honey is the best medicine for the immune system. (We gave my son, Dan, who had progressive MS, bee-sting therapy, which entailed hundreds of bees stinging him on the spine. I’m convinced the bees gave him three extra years of life).

Many of us have either said or heard that when the planet gives up its final breath, cockroaches will be the sole survivors. Well, there is actual research that indicates that cockroaches have consciousness. Fruit flies have distinct sleep patterns, apparently influenced by their social environment. Turns out tortoises can learn and remember solutions and mazes, and some reptiles show signs of pleasure or discontent. I wonder how the researcher found out about a snake’s discontent and was still able to record the information. Haha. 

I read an article saying that crayfish display anxiety-like states, and those states can be altered by antianxiety drugs. I know this isn’t funny, but I couldn’t help myself –– I just imagined a scene: A woman is out having dinner with a friend and she suddenly says, “OMG, I have to leave, my crayfish needs his antianxiety pills, and I completely forgot to give them to him. He’s going to be climbing the walls by the time I get home.” OK, not fair to the crayfish, and I’m gonna get all kinds of mail from crayfish owners. So I apologize in advance.

Meanwhile, there are many Wikipedia pages (and I didn’t even dive deeper with AI) of info on animals, insects, and consciousness. 

There are no articles, however, that I could find on high spiritual beings’ choosing to become pets in their next incarnations. I will have to ask Bo and Higgs about that.