“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] Billy and Mitzi had been at their ease in the living room also, on various chairs. [...]

[...] I did bring home some goodies for Billy and Mitzi. [...]

(Our young tiger cat, Billy, had been sleeping on a nearby chair. [...] Billy crouched to jump up into her lap. [...]

[...] In a recent session Seth had remarked that Billy was “a sweet creature.” [...]

[...] Our 16-year-old cat, Willy, died early in November, and two days later we obtained a kitten, Willy Two (or Billy, as we soon came to call him), from an area humane society. [...]

(I did no typing last night, but typed this session this morning after taking our cat, Billy, around the house on his morning jaunt. [...]

First of all, the affair with the woman, Billie, was quite legitimate. [...]

[...] Billy, our eight-month-old tiger cat, was sleeping on a chair near us. [...] I didn’t know where Billy’s littermate Mitzi was, though. [...]

[...] [Our veterinarian has told us we have to wait until early next year before Mitzi’s littermate, Billy, can be neutered; he has some more growing to do first.] Seth’s recent material on animal consciousness has assuaged to some degree the guilt Jane and I feel at depriving the innocent cats of their reproductive roles. [...] Both porches are screened in down to the floor and furnish the only contacts Billy and Mitzi have with the outside environment.

[...] Much earlier in these preliminary notes I wrote that we’d had our cat Mitzi spayed almost three weeks ago [on August 27, to be exact], and that her littermate, Billy, is to be neutered early next year. [...]

[...] It is, for example, usual enough to think that your cats (Billy and Mitzi) should ideally run outside in the open, because in the wild that is what cats would do.

[...] I laughed, telling her her behavior reminded me of our cats this morning, when it was so cold: Both Billy and Mitzi had barely stepped out onto the picnic table from the kitchen window, when they reversed themselves and hopped right back into the house. [...]

[...] I think there is a God of Mitzi, and a God of Billy, for each of our cats, and that each consciousness, regardless of its status, possesses this intimate connection with the universe….”

[...] In back of her and off to her right, our cats, Billy and Mitzi, were crouching in the light cast on the rug by one of our homemade lamps from its position on a low bookcase: An insect, seemingly mesmerized by the illumination, was flying round and round inside the bright cone of the lampshade. [...]

[...] Today I picked up the lawnmower from the dealer who services it; tomorrow I take the cats, Billy Two and Mitzi, to the vet for their first encounter with Doc Davidson. [...]

[...] [Billy had caught a mouse in my writing room this afternoon.] “I’m just waiting,” Jane said, half-dozing. [...]

(Billy, of course, was highly intrigued by the change his nose told him had taken place in his sister. [...]

[...] Seth’s remarks about Willy Two, or Billy, as we sometimes call him now, were obviously made in response to the funny annoyance we’d felt before the session, when the kitten had been in great form; jumping all over the furniture, pawing at the curtains — as well as Jane and me — getting in our papers, and so forth.)

[...] I also know that as I prepare these notes our 7-month-old kittens, Billy Two and Mitzi, are racing through the house.

(With emphasis, while Billy slept curled up against my left elbow as I sat on the couch writing down Seth’s material:) Animals know that their own lives spell out life’s meaning. [...]

[...] Billy jumped down. [...]

While Seth was dictating Mass Events, for example, another of our cats (Billy) died. [...]

Once the session was over, Billy and Mitzi came out to play.)

[...] Those that lived were Billy and Jane.