Once upon a time there was a cat. A black cat. A black, male cat. A black, male cat with a white chest. A black, male cat with a white chest with the sweetest, most loving personality you can imagine.
One day, on a beautiful summer afternoon in July, this particular black cat showed up at a particular country manor house which was renown for its hospitality by all the animals in the area – cats included. This particular cat sat on this particular verandah on this particular day in July and decided this was to be his new home. He patiently waited for the homeowners to provide him with his own water dish, along with love, attention, and a gourmet cat-buffet. He eventually accepted his utterly unimaginative new name – Blackie – with an aura of magnanimity and calm that was utterly characteristic of him.
Blackie has been living at this country manor for four years now. He has the perfect life – a cool bed in the summer, a warm bed in the winter, mice, birds, and all the sunshine and fresh air you can imagine. A few weeks ago, Blackie started to cough. It was a bad cough, and his human parents became very concerned. He would cough every 1/2 hour for several minutes at a time, and he’d been coughing for over a week. He just wasn’t himself. They brought him to the Vet who diagnosed him with asthma. “He’ll have to take this medicine every day for the rest of his life,” the Vet said, as he handed them a prescription for some medicine whose name was utterly unpronounceable to anyone not trained in the Medical Arts. Blackie’s human parents said, “Thank you,” to the Vet and felt very sorry for Blackie. They didn’t want such an angelic soul to suffer needlessly. They went home, sad that there was nothing more that could be done for him.
Upon hearing Blackie’s story, Elisabeth the Homeopath, took great sympathy on Blackie. She heard of his suffering and wanted to help. She asked Blackie’s human parents several (seemingly irrelevant) questions and suggested a remedy that would help him. Blackie’s parents thought that, at the very least, these little sugar pellets could do no harm, and decided to give him the remedy hidden in his food, three times a day for the next few days. “We have the real medicine from the Vet for when these little pellets don’t work,” they thought.
Later that evening, they noticed something. Something strange. Blackie was eating as exactly as before, he was drinking exactly as before, he was as affectionate as before. The only difference was that he hadn’t coughed. Not once. The entire afternoon. “That’s strange,” his parents said to each other. They discussed it between themselves, and decided that Blackie had been coughing – it was just that they hadn’t noticed. So, they decided to pay better attention. They gave him his supper (with the remedy hidden inside) and waited. And waited. And waited. But nothing happened. They waited three days, and still nothing happened. They waited a week and still nothing happened.
Black didn’t cough again. It has been 3 weeks . Blackie likely has no memory of his cough, and his human parents have forgotten about it too.
That’s the funny thing about healing – you don’t even notice it while it’s happening, even when it’s happening right under your nose.