I had this dream sometime early last week.
My boyfriend and I were visiting my mom at her house. I went into the garage to use the microwave (Yes, that is where she keeps it.), and her cat Monkey came into the garage from outside through the cat door. I reached down and petted her head absent-mindedly. Her fur was soft and silky; she looked exactly as she would have looked and felt exactly as she would have felt. This is when I suddenly realized that the cat had passed away a month ago, and that it was her spirit that I was looking at. She went back outside and I followed her as far as I could, in shock at seeing her. I came back inside and told my mom and boyfriend what had happened, then I woke up.
This is Monkey. She is my mother’s cat. When I was in high school, my mom brought home this tiny, squishy muffin that would sit in the palm of your hand. She was abandoned, and was living under an abandoned refrigerator. I fell in love, and my mother had to keep her. I was the reason my mom kept her, although Monkey was my mom’s cat. In fact, her name isn’t even Monkey, it’s Sadie. But one day when she was a kitten she was jumping around on her hind legs and she looked exactly like a monkey. The nickname stuck.
This black fuzz-ball lived in my bedroom when she wasn’t outside. She would hang out with me, sleep with me, even kicked my cat (her older sister) out of my room to be with me. If I meditated she would sit in my lap, if I was working a ritual or spell she would sit and gaze at the altar. If any animal was my familiar, it was her. If she wasn’t in my room, she was begging to go outside. However, my mom was adamant about the animals staying in at night.