I was sound asleep at 6: 30 in the morning, May 20, 2002, when I heard a voice in my right ear. The voice was calm and spoke clearly, "There's someone in the house." I immediately opened my eyes, and standing on my chest no more than 2 inches from my face, looking me directly in the eyes was my black Egyptian cat, Isis.
My first response was to grab the remote control for the closed-circuit television for my house. Turning on the remote with my right hand, I reached with my left hand for my 38 revolver under the covers, as I balanced Isis on my chest.
As the picture appeared on the monitor I saw a black man in my courtyard opening the gate to leave. My first thought was, "Thanks Celina (my caregiver) for not locking the gate!" I was able to follow his actions through the different cameras. He moved to the front door and bent down to view the packages the United Parcel Service man had left the night before. As soon as he bent his head, he was right next to the intercom speaker, I pushed the intercom button.
"Can I help you?" I said loudly. The man took off running like a ghost was chasing him. I couldn't believe what had just happened. Isis was still on my chest looking me in the eyes.
"Thank you, baby, for protecting us," I said with deep gratitude. Her green eyes acknowledged the thanks with a blink. I was shaken by the event, but I knew I had to get up to look around the house. I put Isis on the table next to the bed.
Moving from the bedroom into the adjoining living room, I could see where the man had entered through one of the windows that Celina had not locked. The burglar had tried to steal the big screen TV that weighed 400 pounds. He was not able to move it more than a few inches from the built in entertainment center. He had tried to open the file cabinets, but had abandoned his attempt since they were locked.
Had he come into the bedroom? How long had he been in the house? How much time had it taken for Isis to wake me up? I don't know; all I know is what Isis told me, "There's someone in the house."
There was no sense in calling the police. They would never be able to find this person in Los Angeles, California.
That evening my best friend Kerry came over to visit, since I had telephoned him about the burglary and Isis’ notifying me of the event. "I can't believe Isis spoke to me in perfect English. She's the reason I knew somebody was in the house."
Isis had never liked Kerry; but she came prancing up to him as soon as he entered the door and started meowing. It was as though she was saying, with great pride, "You heard about what I did? Aren't I incredible? I saved my mother's life."
Kerry picked her up. "I always thought you were just a stupid cat. I didn't know you were this intelligent. I have great respect for what you did." Isis stayed in his arms basking in the praise. From that date they had a close relationship.
What a mystery Isis is to me. As I gaze into her green eyes, I can’t help but wonder how she came to be so insightful.
"What do you know that I don’t know? What do you see that I can’t see? How were you able to communicate to me on that day?" I ask her silently.
In silence she tells me, “I’m a far better mystic then you will ever be.”
And I agree that she is far better then I am as a clairvoyant. I strive to be as good a mystic as she is.
Over the years she has continued to give me messages that have always been accurate and I trust her implicitly. Who needs a watchdog when you have Isis?
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