The year is 1988.  I had just witnessed the ER staff revive my father during the trauma of his 3rd or 4th heart attack.  After he was admitted and resting safely, I decided at 2am to go home for some rest myself, knowing I had to return in the light of the morning.  The drive home to Ocean City was somewhat surreal.  The air was crisp, and the full "snow" moon was shining brightly over the bay, creating its magic atop the ripples of tides.  It was incredibly beautiful.  When I arrived on the island I was shocked to find that a thin layer of snow had newly fallen.  Now--wide awake--surrounded in immense beauty--I sat on the front steps of our house and huddled in a blanket enjoying the moment with tears in my eyes in prayer of gratitude and hope for my dad.  Then, out of nowhere--she appeared just in time--a silky black kitty about 5 months old, with green yellow eyes, playfully danced across the crystallized snow.  She jumped into my arms and never left. Until this difficult week.  After 20 years of loving life--in the light of the "frosty full moon"--our dear Moonshadow, nicknamed "Video", began struggling to hold onto her every breath.  She looked at us with her tired, wise, golden eyes and said it is time to go to sleep.  Her dear friends, Doctor Suzanna Brown and her assistant Sandy, released her of the pain.  She quickly died in my arms with my husband, Jim, standing before her, gently stroking her head.  We laid her to rest next to Jada, beneath a birdfeeder in the sunlight on the afternoon of the full moon, November 24th, 2007. Moonshadow happily followed us everywhere--house to house, room to room, birdfeeder to birdfeeder--snuggling on the sofa, sitting on my feet as I prepared dinner.  She was always the first and last to eat, and always the first to greet each and every person who entered our front door.  For the past year and a half she courageously allowed Jim and I to administer subcutaneous fluids for her failing kidneys, then lost no time by going outside in our woods to practice escape maneuvers and climb trees for fun.  She simply loved life.  Everyone who knew her loved her.  She taught us much, and shared much.  She was a gift and, I believe, an enchanted little girl.  She came seeking love and boundless joy.  We will surely miss being followed by our Moonshadow, and her meow each morning as she lead either Jim or I to the refrigerator.  Our big, grey, 18-year-old boy Audio is sad and seeking her presence.  But she lives in my dad's arms now, and he finds comfort in ours as he gives back to us so much more... Full circle. --Submitted by Karen Adezio, executive director, Whispering Springs Retreat Center
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