The Dalai Lama's Cat (26 page)

Who doesn’t?

The more I was learning about Tibetan Buddhism, the more I realized how very little I knew. No question, the teachings were stimulating and engaging, and there was always some new and intriguing practice around the corner. But I was also feeling confused.

Only half aware of the conversation continuing above me, I returned to full consciousness when I heard the queen say, “Your Holiness, there are so many different practices in our tradition. But which of them is the most important?”

It was as if she had been reading my mind! That was
my
question, though I hadn’t put it in so many words. It was what I too wanted to know!

His Holiness did not hesitate. “Without question, the most important practice is
bodhichitta.
”

“The wish to attain enlightenment in order to lead all living beings to that same state,” she confirmed.

He nodded. “This mind of enlightenment is based on pure, great compassion, which in turn is founded on pure, great love. In each case
pure
means impartial. Without conditions. And
great
means benefiting all living beings, not just the small group of those we happen to like at the moment.

“From our perspective, the only way to enjoy a state of permanent happiness and avoid all suffering is to achieve enlightenment. This is why bodhichitta is considered to be the most altruistic of motivations. We wish to achieve enlightenment not only for ourselves but to help every other living being reach the same state.”

“A very challenging motivation.”

His Holiness smiled. “Of course! It is a lifetime’s task to turn the mind of enlightenment from just a nice idea into sincere conviction. When we begin, it can feel as if we’re only acting. We may think,
Who am I fooling, trying to pretend I can become a buddha and lead all living beings to enlightenment?
But step by step, we develop understanding. We find that others have done it already. We develop confidence in our own capabilities. We learn to become less self-focused and more other-focused.

“I once heard an interesting definition of a holy person: ‘A holy person is someone who thinks more of others than of themselves.’ This is useful, don’t you agree?”

Her Royal Highness nodded before musing, “Agreeing with the idea of bodhichitta is one thing. But remembering to put it into practice … ”

“Yes, being mindful of bodhichitta is most useful. We can apply it to so many of our actions of body, speech, and mind. Our everyday life is rich with possibilities to practice bodhichitta—and each time we do, as Buddha said, the positive impact on our mind is beyond measure.”

“Why so great, Your Holiness?”

The Dalai Lama leaned forward in his chair. “The power of virtue is much, much stronger than the power of negativity. And there is no greater virtue than bodhichitta. When we cultivate this mind we are focusing on inner qualities, not external ones. We are recollecting the well-being of others, not thinking only of the self. This is, you see, a panoramic perspective, not limited to the short-term future of this life. It goes against all our usual thoughts. We are setting our minds on a very different, very powerful trajectory.”

“You said that every day life is rich with possibilities to practice?”

His Holiness nodded. “Every time we do something nice for someone else, even if it is a routine thing they expect, we can do so with the thought ‘By this act of love, or of giving happiness, may I attain enlightenment to liberate all living beings.’ Every time we practice generosity, whether it is making a donation or nursing a cat, we can think the same thing.”

At that moment I yawned deeply. The Dalai Lama and the queen both laughed.

Then, as she looked down into my sapphire eyes, Her Royal Highness said, “It’s karma, isn’t it, that brings people and other beings into our lives?”

His Holiness nodded. “If there is a very strong connection, sometimes the same being can come back again and again.”

“Some people think it is silly to practice mantra recitation aloud for the benefit of animals.”

“No, not silly,” said His Holiness. “This can be very useful. We can create—how do you say?—a good karmic imprint on the mental continuum of a being that can ripen when it meets the right conditions in the future. There are stories in the scriptures of how meditators said mantras out loud to birds. In future lives, the birds were drawn to the Dharma and were able to find enlightenment.”

“So little Snow Lion must have some very, very good karmic imprints?”

The Dalai Lama beamed. “Undoubtedly!”

It was then that the queen said something that seemed most unusual. More unusual still, with the benefit of hindsight. “If she ever has kittens of her own,” she murmured, “it would be my very great honor to give one of them a home.”

His Holiness clapped his hands together. “Very good!” he said.

“I mean it!”

The Dalai Lama met her eyes with an expression of oceanic benevolence. “I will remember,” he said.

A few mornings later I sashayed into the executive assistants’ office. The phones were quiet, the day’s mail had yet to arrive, and during the unusual lull in activity, Chogyal had made cups of tea, which the two men were enjoying with several pieces of Scottish shortbread, courtesy of Mrs. Trinci.

“Good morning, HHC,” Chogyal greeted, as I rubbed my body against his robe-clad legs. He leaned down to stroke me.

Tenzin leaned back in his chair. “How long has she been with us, would you say?”

Chogyal shrugged. “A year?”

“Longer than that.”

“It was before Kyi Kyi.”

“
Way
before Kyi Kyi.” Tenzin bit into his sugardusted shortbread with diplomatic finesse. “Wasn’t it around the time of the visit from that Oxford professor?”

“I can tell you exactly.” Chogyal leaned forward to his computer and called up a calendar. “Remember? It was the day His Holiness got back from an American trip.”

“That’s right!”

“Which was thirteen, fourteen … sixteen months ago.”

“That long?”

“Impermanence,” Chogyal reminded him, snapping his fingers.

“Hmm.”

“Is there any reason—?”

“I was just thinking,” Tenzin said, “she’s no longer a kitten. When she had her vaccinations, they suggested we take her in to have her spayed. And a microchip implant.”

“I’ll make a note to contact the vet,” Chogyal said, adding this to his daily To Do list. “Friday afternoon I should have some time to take her in.”

That Friday afternoon found me sitting on Chogyal’s lap in the back of the Dalai Lama’s car as the driver—the less said about him the better—drove us from Jokhang to the modern veterinary surgery in Dharamsala. There was no need for cages, hampers, or uncivilized yowling. I am, after all, His Holiness’s Cat. On the way down the hill, I took a keen interest in the unfolding tableau, whiskers twitching with curiosity. If anything, it was Chogyal who required soothing, as he held onto me nervously, muttering mantras under his breath.

Dr. Wilkinson, the tall, rangy Australian vet, soon had me on the examination table, where he proceeded to open my mouth, shine light beams in my ears, and subject me to the indignity of a temperature check.

“Time seems to have gotten away from us,” Chogyal told him. “She's been with us for longer than we realized.”

“She had her initial jabs,” the vet reassured him. “That’s the main thing. Lost a bit of weight since the last time I saw her, which she needed to do. Coat is in excellent condition.”

“We’d like to have her microchipped. And spayed.”

“Microchip”—Dr. Wilkinson was massaging my body—“always a good idea. We have people bring in lost pets all the time, and we have no way of contacting their owners. Heartbreaking.”

He paused, hands no longer moving. “But we’ll have to hold off the spaying for a while.”

Chogyal’s brow furrowed. “We weren’t thinking now—”

“Six weeks. Maybe a month.” The vet gave him a meaningful look.

Chogyal still wasn’t getting it. “You’re fully booked for operations?”

Dr. Wilkinson shook his head with a smile. “It’s a bit late for spaying, mate,” he told Chogyal. “His Holiness’s Cat is to be a mother.”

“What will we call them?” was the Driver’s reaction when Chogyal broke the news on the way home.

Chogyal shrugged. I expect he had other things on his mind. Like how to break the news to His Holiness.

“Micey-Tungs?” suggested the driver.

E
PILOGUE

Things were happening down at Café Franc. Sign painters had been up ladders for days, working on the façade of the restaurant. The area Franc was considering for a bookstore had been screened off. Judging from the muffled sounds of drilling and nailing, and the flurry of workmen in and out, all kinds of changes were taking place behind the floor-to-ceiling panels.

To anyone who asked, Franc explained that Café Franc was about to have “a major relaunch.” It would be everything it had been in the past—but better. There would be more for customers and a wider variety of products. It would be an even nicer place to spend your time.

But exactly what was going on behind the scenes remained veiled in mystery.

This was an apt metaphor for my life right now. I was to become the mother of kittens. The changes in my body were rapid and significant. But exactly what this would mean to me was something I could only guess at. Exactly how many kittens would I have? In what way would they alter our life at Jokhang? Would they emerge as Himalayan, tabby, or somewhere in between?

One thing I knew for certain was that I had the Dalai Lama’s full support. Following our visit to the vet, when Chogyal reported the news, His Holiness’s face lit up. “Oh … how extraordinary!” His expression had been almost childlike with wonder as he leaned over to stroke me. “A litter of Snow Lion cubs. That will be fun!”

The question of my own origins, a riddle I believed would remain forever unsolved, was another area in which there had been sudden and unexpected change. Within days of Tashi and Sashi blurting out my origins, Chogyal had arranged for them to accompany him on his next visit to Delhi, to identify the family to whom my mother had belonged. They found the house without difficulty, but it was locked and guarded by a private security detail. There was no sign that a family was currently living there. No evidence at all of a feline in residence. A note had been left with one of the security guards, but a reply was yet to be forthcoming.