A MESSAGE FROM THE AUTHOR

I’ll never forget the day I brought my first cat, Jonathan, home. I was (if I can recall properly) in first grade (sometime around 1990), and I kept bonking my hand against my head because I didn’t believe it was real. It must be a dream! My own cat! Seriously? I wanted to name him Furball, after the cat from Tiny Toon Adventures, but my mom demanded that he be named Jonathan (we got him in Johnstown, PA) - a name, in hindsight, absolutely fitting for the smoosh faced, adorably snobbish fellow.

Jonathan wasn’t very affectionate, but he was, however, very patient. Allowing me to dress him up, carry him around, and treat him like he was my own little toy. I remember the pride and elation I felt the day my school allowed me to bring him in for a special visit, and show him off for Show and Tell.

When I got my second cat, originally named Miss Kitten (who eventually became Peach), I was 19 years old. My high school boyfriend was working doing cedar siding for his boss, and a feral mama cat had given birth to a litter of kittens. Peach was tiny, with soft downy calico fur, and an angel from day one. When I brought her home, Jonathan was an old man at this point. Not quite cantankerous, but also, not that excited about a little kitten who was committed to making him become her friend. Needless to say, Peach’s charms wore him down, and eventually I caught them snuggling up together more than once.

When my dad died, I was 21. It was a devastating life event that changed me, fundamentally, at my core. I held his hand as his spirit left his body, and there’s no real coming back from that threshold…especially as a painfully naive young adult who had no idea what life would throw at her after that death. Jonathan and Peach were there with me through that time, a time where I spiraled into darkness, life collapsed and a series of unfortunate events (and choices) caused an ocean of tears that I, at 40, am still learning to surf through.

Jonathan died soon after. Almost like he knew it was his day. He, too, died in my arms after a day of me just holding him and comforting him through the ceremonial transition. I cried. Hard. But, I felt honored that I got to hold him through his worldly exit. A death doula for both my father and my furry friend. 

In 2009, Ziggy, a Maine Coon, that I found at a rescue, came into our lives. The moment I picked her up, she was purring, and the soul recognition I experienced with that cat was my first understanding of what it meant to have a feline familiar. When I looked into her eyes, it was as if I saw myself staring back. 

She and Peach were my companions through most of my adulthood. My ups, downs, ins and outs, Peach always sleeping on the same side of the bed with me, Ziggy always on my lap or on my head. They watched me through my hardest moments, and kept some of my most devastating secrets - never judging, always soft, sweet, purring and comforting.

Ziggy’s death came unexpectedly, after I moved to Los Angeles in 2020. She quickly got sick, and despite the medical intervention and my best efforts to save her, the Leukemia was irreversible. Her death wrecked me. I cannot think about her without crying. I am crying even as I type this.

Peach stayed with me for three more years, moving with me to Mexico, watching me become a mother, loving my daughter with the same angelic heart she had from the time she was a kitten. When her kidneys began to give out in the summer of 2023, instead of allowing her to suffer, I had a similar goodbye ritual, like when Jonathan died. Death doulaing Peach through a long weekend, her by my side. Petting her, comforting her, and crying with her until she took her last breath. She died in the same position she always slept next to me.

Her death wrecked me in a different way. What a gift to have a cat from the time I was a teenager until my late thirties. Seeing me grow up and become a mother, and living a long, and beautiful life. I tried to focus on the gratitude, but 2023 was one of the worst-terrible-no-good-Voldemort years of my life, and that loss was the proverbial cherry on top of a piece of sh*t 365 days.

But, there’s always a silver lining. Right?

One day, while getting a massage to move through the physical effects of the grief I was carrying. Peach came to me in a vision, and I swear, hand to God, I heard the word ABRACATABRA, and had a vision of a cat-themed oracle deck honoring the preciousness of feline familiars and all of the joy they bring us, and their myths and mystique through something whimsical, accessible and light. I was also right on the heels of finishing working on BE NOT AFRAID, which was heavy, and challenging and so tremendous and deep. That project is my esoteric Magnum Opus, but, I needed to have something lighter after such a transcendent exploration into ineffable realms. Throughout the development of this project, I kept it mostly secret, which was intentional. It has been a precious creative journey and was therapeutic in its own unique way.

Originally sold under the name ABRACATABRA, the title shifted to Feline Mystique, after our publisher decided it was more market-friendly.  This deck, guidebook and the entire creative process is in honor of all the cats I’ve loved, lost, admired and adored. Amelia Rose’s art has simultaneously captured the softness and sweetness, the magic and mystery, and the adorable eccentricities of this incredible animal.

My greatest hope is that this deck brings joy, inspiration, and light to all it touches and that it helps you through your best days, worst days, days that you need a laugh, and days you need to look at things from a different perspective. It is different from anything I’ve ever created before, and also is the first time I am able to publicly share this softer side of myself, and for that I am so grateful.

The work is dedicated to all of my cats (that have crossed the Rainbow Bridge, and are still alive), but, in particular, to Peach. Whose friendship I will cherish until my dying day, when I hope in my heart-of-hearts we may meet again, or at least, find each other, in another life…as cats.

xx