It was over 14 years ago that I had a dream that I found a kitten during my upcoming trip to Seattle. I dreamt that I flew the kitten home to California. When I woke up, I laughed out loud. There was no way I would ever pay to have a kitten flown home on an airplane. What a silly dream I’d just had.

On the morning that we (my former partner and I) were supposed to fly to Seattle, my sister called and said there was an emergency and she wouldn’t be available for our visit. Shoot. I had to make a decision. Should we still go to Seattle and not see her or should I cancel our air flights and go another time?

Plan B fell into action. Cancel our flights.

Since we both had the time off of work, my partner and I decided that we would drive up to Sequoia National Park. It was the perfect time of year. School had just begun so there would be small crowds, the weather was still temperate, and we could get in some great hiking.

Off we went in my station wagon to the historic Springville Inn, which is known as the gateway to the giant Sequoias.

The next morning when we awoke, the weather was so nice we chose to dine outside on the inn’s patio. While sipping tea, a cappuccino and nibbling on homemade biscuits, a white-and-gray kitten appeared by my feet. My partner placed a saucer of cream on the floor and we watched as this sweet little kitten lapped up the milk.

“Please take the kitty home," the inn’s owner said. “He’s homeless. Winter’ll be coming soon and he probably won’t make it.”

“I’m not so sure I’m ready for another kitten,” I said. “I just lost my last one to someone using rat poison in the neighborhood . . . Are you sure he doesn’t have a home?”

“Positive. If you wanna take him, take him,” the innkeeper said, as she turned away to help the next customer.

I looked at my partner. He returned my glance with a knowing look.

After breakfast, we went for a challenging hike in the mountains. Halfway toward our destination, I stopped to grab my water bottle from my backpack.

“Where are my car keys?” I asked while fumbling through my backpack. My partner had used the second set of car keys so we were fine with driving but I realized I couldn’t find my personal set of keys.

“Oh, no. I think I left them at the hotel.”

I give him credit. He didn’t roll his eyes. Instead he suggested, “We should probably head back before someone wraps your keys up in sheets and they’re gone forever.” As we hiked down the mountain, he added, “I’ve been thinking about it. When we go back to the hotel, if the cat is there, we’ll take him home. What do you think?”

I nodded in agreement. It seemed like this was for sure the cat of my dream if it was still at the inn.

My partner pulled up the car to the curb in front of the inn. I hopped out and ran up the steps toward our outdoor-facing room. I could see that the housekeeper had left our room door wide open. When I peered inside, I saw my keys sitting on the bedside table. Phew. That would have been quite a challenge to replace all of my keys.

As I ran down the steps back toward the car, thrilled to have my keys in hand, I heard a loud “meow”. I turned and saw the kitten curled up inside a planter.

I scooped him up into my arms and ran toward the car. “Look. Look. It’s the kitten,” I said, “and the keys.” We placed a yoga blanket on the back seat of my car and placed the kitten on it.

“What will we name him,” my partner asked while driving back home.

I thought for a moment. “Sequoia,” I said.

“I like that name,” he said..

As so it was, Sequoia joined our home.

Because he didn’t understood the concept of home at first, he chose the entire neighborhood as his home. I received calls that he was under a neighbor’s bed, asleep on another’s couch, sipping from a neighbor’s two-streets-down water bowl, or stealing food from yet another’s dog bowl. I met so many neighbors through Sequoia’s antics, that the neighbors started calling him the Dalai Lama because they said he did more to build the friendships in the neighborhood than any of the people did.

It took about a year for Sequoia to understand the concept of home, to claim my home as his.

During his sweet 14.5 years of his life, everyone loved him. Truly. But, my heart beat the hardest for him. After all, he was my destiny cat.

At about age 13, Sequoia got cancer on his ear. Over the year, the cancer grew. And, then, it became a bigger problem. He lost weight. His energy lagged. His demeanor was still sweet and loving but his life was fading.

Just this week, the tumor on his ear exploded.

There was nothing left to do. I had to put him down. And, yet, it was right in the middle of an epic rainstorm.

I called my vet in a panic. They were evacuated, too. The emergency vet in town was still open. They said they could remove his ear for $5,000-$7,000. If I wouldn’t pay for a plane ticket to fly a cat home, I knew I wouldn’t pay thousands of dollar for a surgery for my cat whose cancer had already become systemic.

So, I called Isabelle, the founder at Care4Paws and told her what was going on. “Don’t worry,” she said. Care4Paws had a mobile truck coming to town during the week. She made me an appointment.

I didn’t know much about Care4Paws except that they were a mobile service known for spaying and neutering and they helped people of domestic violence get services for their animals.

One of Sequoia’s favorite spots—in a planter.

On the day at the appointed time, I tucked Sequoia into his cat carrier and took him to Care4Paws. He was quiet and subdued, at some level I believed he knew what was going on. He no longer had the energy to fight.

A Care4Paws attendant checked me and Sequoia in. She handed me a form to fill out. Many people we waiting with their pets in tow.

I scanned the group. Another woman who appeared to be around my age stood with her cat who was missing his nose due to cancer. She had to make the same decision I did because the cat’s nose was open and bleeding. “When I came here, I felt so alone with my decision,” she said, “Being here with you and seeing that you are making the same decision makes me feel less alone.”

While she and I were chatting, a human angel named Carlos came over to talk to me. He worked for Care4Paws.

He asked me what was going on with Sequoia. I told him about the series of medical events.

He said, “Are you sure you’re ready?

I told him, “Sequoia and I have had a ‘conversation’ the last several days. He’s ready and so am I… at least as ready as I will ever be."

Carlos asked me if I wanted to be with Sequoia and I said that I had said my goodbye and felt I couldn’t be present. I’m not sure why, I’m usually okay with death but I had a strong feeling that this time I couldn’t handle being there holding him.

After all, Sequoia was my destiny cat and had left paws on my heart in a BIG WAY.

I watched Carlos with all of the people who were waiting with their animals. With each person, he was compassionate, caring, full of information. Everyone who waited was helped and felt seen, heard and cared for. You could see it in their eyes and demeanor when they left.

Sequoia was loved and well cared for during his final moments. I felt loved and well cared for. It was a moment of true compassion. I could not have been more pleased.

Several times I awoke that night hearing Sequoia purring next to me. I knew he was visiting me and telling me he was doing just fine.

It gives me great solace to imagine Sequoia frolicking about, eating from other animal’s bowls, lapping cream from ornate saucers, and being a greeter to all who reside in that beautiful, vibrant place on the other side. I also know that one day he will be there for me, to greet me, paws on my heart, welcoming me to the other side.