The Cat in the Box - Part II

 

As Time Goes By

 

               Looking back, time really did move quickly. The first photo I took with my phone is dated November, and Lady’s Jane’s big transition didn’t occur until August, but it seems like everything happened so fast. Yet, time also moved slowly. The slow time was critical for the fast time; there would have been no fast time without the slow time. Isn’t it like this with much of life?

               A couple is building a home across the street from us. It seemed as if it would take forever for the land to be cleared, the lot to be graded, the footing to be poured, the water and sewer lines installed, the slab to be poured, and the foundation to be completed. However, once all of this happened things moved quickly (at least for a while!).

               When we had a vegetable garden I knew the cycles of soil preparation, seed and seedling planting, watering and feeding, weeding, training plants up to grow, protection from critters and insects and disease, and eventually harvest. Often when harvest arrived it came in bunches, quickly, demanding to be picked and processed and enjoyed and given away. In vegetable gardening we have s-l-o-w times so that we can enjoy fast times.

               The slow time with Lady Jane, November through July, consisted of taking time with her, mostly on our rear deck. This included making sure water was available for her, providing food, sitting on the deck and talking to her, being patient as she came nearer and nearer to us as time passed. We began opening the back door of our home to her to give her the option of coming inside to explore.

               Princess was a help during all this because Princess liked us and not only came up to us for pets and to give us affection, but she was also curious about the open door and eventually made some expeditions inside to explore the new terrain. Lady Jane observed all this.

               As the weather grew warmer Lady Jane went from sleeping in her condo to on a deck chair just outside the door. I’d look for her first thing in the morning and be relieved when I saw her and anxious when I didn’t. When I didn’t see her, I’d call for her, sometimes she’d come and sometimes she wouldn’t. Princess/Duchess would always come. Sometimes it might be 30 minutes or more before Lady Jane showed up. Occasionally it might be an hour or more.

               I know what you’re thinking. “She’s an outdoor cat, what do you expect?”

               Fair enough, but she was capturing our hearts.

 

The BIG Decision

 

               On the night of August 1, we had a terrible storm, lightning, thunder, sheets of rain, wind. A bolt of lightning struck a 100-foot-tall pine tree 15 feet from our home and shook our house and those of our neighbors. Where was Lady Jane though all of this? Was she safe? She must be frightened. We’d open the door and call for her, but no Lady Jane.

               The next morning I called and called for her, I walked around our house multiple times…no cat. I walked around the neighborhood, praying, hoping, looking, worrying. No Lady Jane.

               Then, as I returned home and walked up on the back deck I saw her on the other side of the deck, but she wouldn’t approach me. She looked at me, but as I called her in a soft voice and went toward her, she moved away. I brought some food out in a bowl and left it on the deck and went back inside.

               As the day wore on we were finally able to go outside without her running away.

               At this point we decided to try to get her to spend nights inside, we’d try to make an indoor-outdoor cat out of her.

               Within the next week we were able to get her to come inside in the evening, which led to a test of wills – would we let her out on her schedule or ours? Some mornings she was let out earlier than others, 3:00 AM, 4:00 AM, 5:00 AM. It depended on how much noise she made by pawing at the venetian blinds and the door sill. Even though we raised the blinds, she kept finding ways to make noise. She doesn’t have a loud voice, so that wasn’t much of a factor, but she was persistent in behavior which yelled, “Let me out now!”

               In the evenings sometimes she’d come inside of her own accord, other times we’d pick her up and bring her inside.

               One evening she didn’t show up on the deck to come in. She’d been around during the day and things seemed normal, but as evening came there was no Lady Jane. During the night I’d get out of bed and go to the deck to look for her, calling for her; no Lady Jane.

               With sunrise I was outside, walking around the house, sitting on the deck, calling for her, watching and waiting and…yes…praying.

               Finally she appeared. Tentatively she climbed the stairs to the deck, warily she approached me. She had a scratch next to an eye and looked exhausted; she had little energy. I picked her up and brought her inside. We fed her and she slept for hours.

               That was the last night that Lady Jane spent outdoors. In fact, it was the last time that Lady Jane was outdoors. That was when we made the Big Decision to keep her inside, explaining to her that from now on she was an indoor cat. We couldn’t take the risk of anymore injuries…we loved her.

               The Cat in the Box had become the Cat in our Hearts.

 

The Cat in the Box - Part I

 

The Cat in the Box

 

Robert L. Withers, 2026

 

The Beginning

 

               The wind blew the box off the deck and onto the patio. Was the cat inside? Is she okay?

               When we lost our Border Collie Lily after 15 ½ years we didn’t think we’d get another dog, the pain was just too much and we were getting older, truly older. There was, however, Princess, our neighbor’s cat. When Lily was still with us Princess, a tabby, would visit on our back deck from time to time, she and Lily ignored each other. After Lily was gone we saw more of Princess.

               We decided to bestow a new name on Princess. When Princess was on Pete and Lisa’s property, she would be Princess, when she crossed onto our property we would call her Duchess. We took a photo of Duchess and sent it to Pete and Lisa, telling them that we had a new cat named Duchess.

Pete said to Lisa, “It looks like Princess.”

Lisa replied, “It is Princess.”

You can’t fool a momma!

As winter approached we were concerned about Duchess having a warm place to sleep. Princess is an outdoor cat and not keen on coming inside, whether in the cold (she is from New York) or even during storms. Since Pete and Lisa have two rambunctious young dogs, Princess doesn’t find peace and quiet in their home even when she wants to be inside.

We decided to purchase Duchess a heated kitty condo (we do not call it a cathouse).

Duchess immediately took to her new digs. She would come over in the evening to spend the night and sleep as long as she wanted in the morning.

About the time Duchess took possession of her new condo, we began feeding her. Not long after our food service was established a rather small calico began to appear. She wasn’t as small as a kitten, but she was much smaller than Princess. Naturally we expanded our food service to accommodate the calico.

What to call her?

We wanted something that was in line with Princess and Duchess and settled on Lady Jane.

As cold weather set in, we worried about Lady Jane. Since we didn’t know if Lady Jane would move on from us, we took a sturdy cardboard box, lined it with a soft blanket, placed it in proximity to Duchess’s condo, and waited to see what would happen.

Lady Jane moved in on the first day.

During wet weather I covered the outside of the box with tarps.

In spite of our hospitality, Lady Jane did not want us near her and certainly didn’t want us touching her. She trusted our food, she trusted our box, but she did not trust us.

Then one day we had a storm with strong winds and before we knew it, despite our efforts to secure her box, Lady Jane’s box blew off the deck and five steps down onto the patio. What a ride that must have been!

I went outside, looked down the stairs, and Lady Jane was outside her box with a puzzled look, as if to ask, “What am I doing down here?”

Well, this would not do, especially as it was getting progressively colder and the box was not heated. We purchased another heated kitty cottage!

Would she make the switch?

She inspected the outside of the cottage, smelled all around it, but she would not venture inside.

Our kitty condos have transparent plastic flaps at their entrances. This was not a problem for Duchess, but it was for Lady Jane; she was not going to push her way through the flap to get inside.  (In case you’re wondering, they also have back doors that only push outward just in case kitty needs to make an emergency exit.)

Once we saw the problem, we employed the handy man’s secret weapon and used duct tape to keep the flap open. The result was immediate occupancy by the calico.

Within a few weeks Lady Jane had gone from living in bushes and woods in the neighborhood, to inside a cardboard box, to enjoying the heat and protection of a kitty cottage. She had progressed from having to hunt for her food, and scrounge scraps from patios and decks, to having two personal chefs cater to her. She now had a sister of sorts, Princess, who also invited her to meals at Pete and Lisa’s. While the two cats had their occasional spats, they were comfortable around each other and looked for each another.

An element of Lady Jane’s behavior was constantly looking around when eating. I suppose she learned that she needed to beware of cats and other animals who were after her food. There was less and less of this behavior when Duchess was around.

 

A Lesson on Play from Lady Jane (2)

 

 

Watching Lady Jane’s transition from being an outdoor cat to an indoor cat is fascinating. For example, she eats differently now than she did outside.

 

When she was outside, Lady Jane was consistently looking around when she ate. She’d eat a few bites and look around, eat a few more bites and look around, always aware of her surroundings. After all, she was responsible for finding her own food day after day, meal after meal, nothing was predictable – other than uncertainty. Outdoor cats need to be aware of their surroundings, they need to protect themselves, and since their next meal isn’t promised they need to protect their food. Elsewhere I’ve written about Socks, who was a threat to Lady Jane’s food.

 

While still outside, as Lady Jane became comfortable with us, she relaxed somewhat in her eating, if we were on the deck she didn’t check her surroundings as frequently though she never complexly let down her guard. After we brought her indoors permanently and she realized that she was safe, it wasn’t long before she stopped eating a few bites and looking around, eating a few bites and looking around.

 

During the weeks after coming inside to live with us, Lady Jane slept beneath a bed or a table. Now she sleeps in the open for she has nothing to fear, she is in a safe place and she is protected by us.

 

One of the first things we did after bringing her inside was to buy our cat some toys, including some stuffed mice and a wand to which toys are attached, such as feathers. While I could induce Lady Jane to play with me using the wand and feather, she had no interest in the mice. For the first few weeks Lady Jane would play with me and the wand, but she ignored the toys, such a “mouse,” that she could play with by herself.

 

Then, about three weeks ago, a change happened with Lady Jane; she began playing with “mouse,” batting it here and there, throwing it around, rolling with it in her paws, it was so sweet to see her playing. Lady Jane had learned to play! Lady Jane was feeling secure, she was safe, and she could play…she had nothing to fear.

 

Playing with mouse is now part of Lady Jane’s life and she gives us such joy as we watch her, yesterday she spent all day playing. Lady Jane now knows rest, love, security, and the joy of play. (Yes, yes, I realize some might say I’m overdoing it, that she is a cat. But she is our cat and we are her people – and since Vickie and I are children of our Father, we will rejoice in God’s gift of Lady Jane as life comes naturally to us.)

 

When we are safe we can play, when we aren’t safe, even when we try to play, we’ve got to be careful, we can’t really let go and play. When we are secure we can play, when we aren’t secure our play is constrained and cautious.

 

Paul writes that we are to rejoice in the Lord always, he is emphatic about this (Philippians 4:4), “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice!”

 

Jesus wants our joy to be full, in fact, He wants His very joy to be poured into us and us to be filled with it – imagine, the joy of Jesus overflowing within us (John 15:11; 17:13).

 

When we know rest in Christ, we stop living by our works, our own wisdom, our own agenda…and we can play…and ever better, we can invite others to play! (Psalm 127:1; John 15:1 – 5; Hebrews 4:9 – 10). 

We don’t need to be outdoor Christians any longer, we can live securely in our Father’s House. We can stop sleeping and hiding under religious furniture, we can stop hiding the way the world hides, we need no longer look this way and that as we dine at our Father’s Table…we can enjoy our meals (especially with one another).

 

“Cease striving [relax, let go] and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10).

 

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.” (Matthew 11:28 – 29, The Message, Peterson).

 

Are we outdoor or indoor Christians?

A Lesson on Play from Lady Jane (1)

  

On numerous occasions I took care of Zorba and Zelda when their “parents” were out of town. Taking care of them meant letting them out of the house to go potty, giving them food and water, and keeping an eye on their wellbeing. Zorba was a bloodhound, and Zelda a midsize mixed breed full of energy. Zorba was a senior citizen, Zelda an adolescent. While their spacious yard did not have a physical fence, they were on an invisible fence system and were trained to respect it.

 

During my first time watching Zorba and Zelda for a weekend, I planned to spend some playtime with them on my visits, giving them exercise and attention. After all, we were always playing with our puppies (they are always puppies) and ensured that they had plenty of toys. Playing with our dogs was a natural element of daily life for us.

 

Since “fetch” is Play Time 101, I assumed I’d use one of their toys and that I’d give them some good exercise. The first problem was that they had no toys. Really? No toys? How could this be? How could dogs not have toys?

 

Well, I thought, okay, we’ll play “stick.” After all, all dogs know how to play “stick.” I’ll find right-sized sticks for Zorba and Zelda and throw them. Zelda will fetch hers and bring it to me for another throw, and Zorba will do likewise. This will be good exercise for them since they are inside the house more than usual while their family is away. The three of us will have fun.

 

With woods on three sides of their house it didn’t take me long, with my practiced eye, to select two sticks which any Golden Retriever would be proud of; certain they would meet with their approval I called both dogs to me. Then, in anticipation of a rousing good time of throwing and chasing and retrieving and throwing again, in expectation of tiring both dogs out so that they’d be ready for a good dog nap, I heaved first one stick and then the other across their yard. They were beautiful long and high arching throws, giving Zorba and Zelda time to be off and running, tracking their sticks in dogful joy, perhaps even eliciting barks and howls. I envisioned Michael Jordan and Scottie Pipen racing in tandem down the court to the basket.

 

Instead, they both looked up at me, as if to say, “Why did you do that?”

 

“Stick!” I said. “Go get stick!”

 

I ran to where both sticks were, thinking they would follow me. I’d demonstrate what I wanted them to do. I clapped my hands, I encouraged them in my sweetest and most excited doggy voice, I picked both sticks up and threw them again. I waited, no movement, the dogs were exactly where they were when I made my first two throws.

 

I fetched both sticks again and went back to Zelda and Zorba.

 

“Stick, when I throw stick run and get it. It’s fun. Let’s play stick. One, two, three, GO!”

 

Again, I gave both sticks heaves that an Olympic javelin thrower would be proud of, certain the dogs would be tearing after them.

 

Again, I…not the dogs…ran after the sticks. (What were the neighbors thinking?)

 

I am slow, sometimes I can be very slow, very very s-l-o-w; it finally dawned on me that Zorba and Zelda did not know how to play.

 

When I returned home after that first visit, I said to Vickie, “They don’t know how to play. They don’t have toys, but beyond that, they don’t even know how to play “stick.” How can this be? How can dogs not know how to play?”

 

C.S. Lewis wrote somewhere that “Joy is the business of heaven.” Paul exhorts us to “Rejoice in the Lord always, again I say rejoice.” Joy and rejoicing and “play” are gifts from God, they are distinct experiences, yet they often overlap. Many of the Bible’s psalms are exuberant, loud, boisterous, and demonstrative. John’s Revelation portrays heaven and the Throne Room as a place of loud noises and thunderous activity, yet these noises do not offend our senses, they inspire us, they awe us, they give glory to God and draw us into worship. (Yes, there are also times of silence and rest in Revelation and in Psalms.)

 

We can only play when we are secure. We can only play when we are at peace. We can only play when we are at rest, and we can only rest when we have played. Play is fun, it is joyful.

 

A wealthy man once boasted to me, “I have never even thrown a ball with any of my children.”

 

Now for sure it was sad that Zorba and Zelda did not know the doggy joy of playing fetch, but it was even sadder to hear this man, who took pride in his wealth, boast about not playing with his children.

 

Someone once said that you can measure a congregation’s health by the laughter you hear. I think that’s a fair observation. While it is obviously not the only vital sign, for sure its absence is a warning sign.

 

Lady Jane, our calico, has been with us indoors for a little over two months now and she is teaching us a lesson on play.

 

To be continued…

Indelicacies

 

Indelicacies

 

A friend has inquired about Lady Jane, and this has put me in an awkward position. I can hardly disclose the truth about Lady Jane without venturing into indelicacies. What to do?

 

I realize that indelicacies are a thing of the past for most people, but I have a sensitivity rooted in both classical Christianity and in my great-great Aunt Martha and I take no pleasure in parading the indelicate before the world…or the church. After all, the Law of Moses teaches us that we are to take certain things and conditions outside the camp.

 

Aunt Martha spoke to me of things such as enunciation and deportment, of dropping my chin when I speak; she also taught me to play two-hand solitaire, leading me down a path of dissipation (just kidding about the latter). When Aunt Martha taught school, they not only taught cursive, they really did teach deportment and enunciation, speaking properly was important – now we grunt and can’t put a sentence together, let alone a sustained thought. We make a joke at everything, and what we don’t laugh at we scoff at and ridicule – maybe the joke is on us?

 

I realize that some Bible passages are rather indelicate, Ezekiel has pretty raw passages, such as Chapter 23; when I preached on that I gave the adults a heads-up a week prior in case they wanted to have their kids in children’s church…just saying.

 

One Sunday morning I noticed that the lead vocalist on our praise team had a problem with his attire of which he was obviously unaware (I was sitting with the congregation in a pew). What to do? I hastily scribbled a note, gave it to one of the boys, and asked him to take it to Mr. “Rufus.” Upon reading the note, brother Rufus retreated behind the drummer and when he reappeared his face was rather red. Indelicacies can be a challenge.

 

King David was most certainly sensitive to indelicacies and had compassion on those who suffered them. I am sure you recall the incident in 2 Samuel Chapter 10 when the foolish king of Ammon, Hanun, took David’s messengers and “shaved off half of their beards and cut off their garments in the middle as far as their buttocks.” The Scripture tells us that the men “were greatly ashamed”. David told them, “Stay at Jericho until your beards grow, and then come home.” Hanun would regret this indelicacy.

 

Sometimes we need to hear the indelicate. One morning before church I was chatting with the grandson of a parishioner when the little guy looked at me and said, “You have bad breath.” While the grandmother was apologetic, I was thankful, grabbing the breath mints and thanking the little guy!

 

At other times the indelicate can help with communication, such as when during a children’s sermon, with the kids gathered around me in the front of the church I asked, “When you think of old, what do you think of?” Kyle Mitchell quickly responded, “You.”

 

From that point on I had everyone’s attention.

 

The indelicate can also save lives, as we see in 2 Kings 4:38 – 41. Elisha and his home boys were cooking a big pot of stew, with everyone contributing something to the pot. One of the men harvested some wild gourds that were poisonous and threw them into the pot.

 

As the men were eating the stew they started crying out to Elisha, “O man of God, there is death in the pot!”

 

While it is indelicate to draw attention to a meal that ought not to be eaten, it can save lives.

 

If I am fixing a stew or chili or soup, and I realize that it needs Vickie's touch with herbs and spices, I’ll say to her, “Please come and heal this, there is death in the pot.”

 

We also use the term when we are at restaurants or elsewhere, if the term is warranted. However, please be assured, we have never used it in your home, never, never, never.

 

Sometimes I hear a sermon or a teaching, or read an article or book, and I’ll say, “There is death in the pot.” There is a lot of that happening right now – folks seem to have lost their taste buds.

 

This brings me, mercifully for you, back to Lady Jane.

 

When we made the decision to bring her inside and make her an indoor cat, we knew we had to take her to a vet for shots and a general health check. Also, we needed to get her cuts looked at because she had been attacked, likely by Socks the tomcat.

 

I made an appointment with a new practice in the area, borrowed a carrier from a neighbor, and off we went. The carrier had two towels for padding, and we placed a beach towel over the outside to give Lady Jane a sense of security during the ride.

 

The veterinary clinic is about 15 minutes from home and we hoped the ride would be uneventful, alas, it was not. No, Lady Jane did not escape from the carrier, roll down the window, and jump out of the car. What she did do was to encourage us to roll down all the windows by engaging in an indelicacy. All of the air freshener in the world could not have masked this indelicacy. She must have been frightened.

 

We arrived about 15 minutes before our appointment, and as we waited to be called to an examining room, we wondered what we would find in the carrier with Lady Jane, that is, we knew the nature of what we would find, but we didn’t know the extent of what we would find.

 

Finally, a tech called us back, asked questions, and wrote down answers. From this point on, you really had to be there, but I will do my best to describe what happened.

 

A woman entered the room who we assumed to be a vet. She did not introduce herself. She did not say, “Good afternoon. Thank you for coming to our new practice.” She did not say, “This is a holdup, give me your wallet and purse.” She did not ask, “Have you ever seen an UFO?”

 

After looking at the carrier, which only had a front door, she did say, “If you bring her back to me I won’t see her if she is in this carrier. This is the second rescue cat today that has been in a carrier like this. You must bring her in a carrier that opens at the top.”

 

Well, good afternoon to you too! Thank you very much! Ain’t this grand?

 

If it had not been for the fact that we were there for Lady Jane, we would have left.

 

But it gets better.

 

Not once did she discuss Lady Jane’s health with us.

 

Not once did she discuss our options for heartworm and flea and tick treatment, she gave us a tube of XWY and said, “Use this, and when you come back you can buy more.”

 

Not once did she engage in conversation, or even speak distinctly, she seemed to be talking to herself more than to her tech, and certainly more than to us.

 

She and the tech removed the top half of the carrier (they are made so that while there is no door on the top, the top half can be removed). Then the tech lifted Lady Jane out of the carrier. At that point Lady Jane’s indelicacy distinctly manifested itself.

 

Now you really had to have been there for what comes next, because it really does get better.

 

The vet (that is, the woman who we assumed was the vet), reached into the carrier and lifted the towels out. Within the towels lay Lady Jane’s indelicacy. Rather than place the towels on the floor, rather than put them in a trash receptacle, the vet hands them across the examining table to Vickie and says, “Take these.”

 

Ha! Did I say you had to have been there?

 

As Vickie reached for the towels Lady Jane’s indelicacy, which was substantial for such a small animal, rolled out of the towels, down Vickie’s arm, onto her hand, and was deposited on her leg (she was wearing shorts).

 

Then this person, who we supposed was a vet, had the tech go get a trash bag and give it to Vickie so she could put the soiled towels in it.

 

But it gets better, don’t leave me yet.

 

Rather than say to Vickie, “Why don’t you come over here to the sink and get washed up. Here is soap and water, here is sanitizer,” this vet person hands her a roll of paper towels to simply wipe the indelicacy off her skin and clothes.

 

Now I ask you, gentle reader, would you really want the residue of cat poop on you, even if you dearly loved the cat? I don’t mean to be indelicate, goodness no, I don’t intend that at all, but I think it is a legitimate question. I think there are times we must confront the unpleasant, no matter how indelicate.

 

Lady Jane received a rabies vaccination, and also another vaccination for a number of problems cats can develop. We were given meds for her wounds. Another towel for her carrier was thankfully provided by the tech, she was placed back in the carrier, the top half was secured, and we left the examining room.

 

I went to the car with Lady Jane while Vickie paid the bill – one with exorbitant pricing.

 

As Vickie approached the car, I saw her carrying the trash bag. Not thinking that we wanted such indelicacy as company on the way home, I asked her to leave the bag outside. Then I got out of the car and deposited it in the clinic’s dumpster.

 

The only really funny thing about all of this is that the supposed vet made an appointment for us to bring Lady Jane back for a booster shot. Ha! We canceled that appointment and are taking Lady Jane to another vet, the drive is longer, but we’ve been to this clinic before and know what to expect.  

 

In case you’re wondering, Vickie got cleaned up when we reached home…and Lady Jane took a nap.

 

 

 

 

“Git!!!”

 

We’ve been adopted by a cat. This process began during the winter, has had its ups and downs, and while we’ve experienced some moments when we despaired of the process, it seems to have been pretty much completed.  I write “pretty much” because with this cat we may never know. Though, what I’m about to share might indicate that she has indeed made her final decision about us.

 

The players:

 

Princess, the tabby cat who lives next door. She is about thirteen years old, has been a visitor to our deck and garden for a few years, and was hospitable to Lady Jane when Lady Jane was very much a cat on her own seeking food in the neighborhood.

 

Lady Jane, a calico cat who began showing up for food during the winter. We named her Lady Jane because we wanted a name to associate with Princess. There was a time we couldn’t touch Lady Jane, couldn’t pet her, couldn’t get close to her. Now she spends the night inside with us, gets lots of pets, plays with us (but don’t touch her tummy, she is a Venus cat trap and will get you!) and is quite affectionate.

 

Socks, a large male cat. We call him Socks because, of course, he is a black cat with white lower legs and paws.  Socks intimidates Princess and Lady Jane and eats their food.

 

Lady Jane and Princess have cat condos on our deck. We purchased them during the winter so they’d have warm places to stay. Lady Jane not only uses her cat condo for warmth, but when she is afraid she jumps inside it for security.

 

Okay, the stage is set, let’s have some action.

 

Yesterday morning, as I let Lady Jane outside and onto our back deck, I called for Princess so she could come over for her first breakfast. Princess is an outdoor cat and she normally sleeps on her parents’ patio, which is just feet from our deck. The two cats have two breakfasts. I feed them around 5:30 and Lisa, Princess’s mom, feeds them later. I suppose they are like Tolkien’s Hobbits, who maintained a custom of having a first breakfast and then a second breakfast.

 

Princess normally comes right over, expecting to be served dry food in one bowl and wet food in another, she will make her own decision as to just what she’ll eat on any given day, my job is to serve, not to ask questions. Yesterday, however, there was no Princess. I called again, then again, then again, but no Princess.

 

Okay, I thought, I’ll go inside and get some coffee and come back out and see if she shows up. Lady Jane was settling down on the deck, having already eaten in the house. As I opened the door and stepped inside, out of the corner of my eye I saw Lady Jane bolt into her cat condo, as I turned I saw Princess running up on the deck chased by Socks.

 

Instinctively I turned back onto the deck and yelled, “Git!”

 

Socks did just that, he turned around and was gone in a flash.

 

After making sure that Socks had left the area, I told Lady Jane she could come out of her condo, which she did. Then I brought Princess her breakfast and stayed outside for a few minutes just to make sure everything would be fine.

 

Then it hit me, when I yelled “Git” neither Lady Jane nor Princess ran, only Socks. A few months ago Lady Jane would have bolted too, but not now. They knew my “Git” voice was not for them, in fact, it was to protect them.

 

When I mentioned this to Vickie later in the morning, she said, “All Princess and Lady Jane hear from us are words of love, they have never heard words to cause fear. They knew you weren’t talking to them.”

 

O how I wish we were secure in God’s love for us in Jesus Christ. How I wish we knew that “God is love, and the one who abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him” (1 John 4:16). How I wish we knew that “Perfect love casts out all fear” (1 John 4:18). How I wish we lived in the assurance that “nothing can separate us from the love of God” (Romans 8:38 – 39).

 

Jesus says that His sheep know His voice (John 10:1 – 5).

 

Do we?

 

Are we living in the incredible love of God in Jesus Christ?

 

Are we sharing His amazing love with others?

 

Is His love our Way of Life?

 

1 Corinthians Chapter 13; 1 John Chapter 4.

 

Much love, from me to you in Jesus Christ.

 

Bob

 

 

The Loss Of A Pet

We lost our Lily on May 3, it was five years less a day since we lost our Lina, that was on May 4.  The following day a friend called to tell me that they would have to put their puppy to sleep on May 6. A few days later, after a conversation with my friend, I felt I needed to write him.

What a mysterious gift God has given us in our pets. Mysterious and undeserved. 

Good morning dear friend,

I know I need to write you this morning, not to assuage your pain at the loss of Buddy, but to simply walk with you in some measure; not to give you answers, but to listen with you for that Voice of assurance. (Maybe even for that bark that communicates “all is well”.)

Little did I know when I answered the phone last Saturday that I was to hear that you too, with Steph, were about to lose your beloved puppy (they are always puppies to me).

Lily’s mind and her eyes were bright last Friday, but her little body was sick, it was too much for her. An old man and an old woman and an old dog went into the animal hospital, but only the old man and old woman got back into the car. I had expected to bring her home after her examination, I did not anticipate driving home through a veil of tears.

While I have been reliving those final minutes and moments, they are too much to write about at present, but I do want to tell you that she gave me lots of kisses – which was especially special, for while she always gave Vickie kisses, she seldom kissed me.

The other thing I know I want to say is that we needed to be there for her and with her as she left us. Lily trusted us with her life and she trusted us with her death – and is this not sacred?

As we were saying goodbye to Lily, I said to Dr. Kevin, “I’m glad you are the one.” He replied, “I’m glad too.” For you see, Kevin cared about Lily, she mattered to him, he is a gentle soul. I would not have wanted a stranger to do what Kevin was doing.

This was the same with my Dad’s funeral. I led his funeral because I did not want a stranger to do it, and I certainly didn’t want someone who didn’t know Jesus to do it. (While we have never talked about it, certainly it was sacred for you and Steph to have your sister June with you during her final season of life – this is the way it once was, we were with one another until our parting, we did not isolate one another nor warehouse one another.)

So my dear friend, what I am saying is that you did not betray your dear Buddy anymore than our heavenly Father betrays us when we lay this body down – or even when it is taken from us through violence. Yes, death is a hideous reality laden with grief – and who can plumb the depths of grief? But death is also abolished, it has been destroyed in and through Jesus Christ – and therefore it is a short-term reality, an intrusion into our pilgrimage (as painful as it is).

I run to 2 Timothy 1:10, “…[He] abolished death and brought life and immortality to light through the Gospel.”

I shelter in Hebrews 2:15 - 16, “…and might free those who through fear of death were subject to slavery all their lives, for assuredly He does not give help to angels, but He gives help to the seed of Abraham.”

And I shout through my grief, “O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” (1 Corinthians 15:55).

I’ve been singing “Because He Lives” and including words about puppies in it, I’ve been including Lily…just as you can include Buddy.

We know that just as Creation has suffered in our slavery and sin, that it will also participate in our redemption and restoration:

“For the anxious longing of the creation waits eagerly for the revealing of the sons of God. For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of Him who subjected it in hope, that the creation itself also will be set free from its slavery to corruption into the freedom of the glory of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation groans and suffers the pains of childbirth together until now.” (Romans 8:19 – 22).

If I take Paul’s words at face value, then Creation knows more than we think it does, and it knows more about us than we know about ourselves – for it is eagerly awaiting our revealing in Christ, while we still tend to think of ourselves as either paupers or we act as arrogant fools.

One of the things about dogs is that they are innocent and we are not, and that makes it pretty hard at times to live with them and terrible when we lose them. I say that it is hard at times to live with them because their self-giving and innocence reveals my selfishness and sin – Ha! They do a better job at convicting me of sin than any preacher ever did.

I love the final pages of The Last Battle by C. S. Lewis, for it shows us reunited with those we love, including souls in Creation.

One week ago today, at about 2:00 P.M., we lost our Lily…O how my heart beats with the expectation that we will see one another again. I fully expect to be greeted by our puppies and that we will all frolic in the New Jerusalem…others may call me a fool…but let it be said that I am a fool who places all of his hope in Christ…all of it.

 

Your friend… in grief as in joy…

 

Bob

Lina and Darby

It’s hard to imagine a closer pair of dogs than Lina and Darby. Darby was our shepherd-Lab mix that went to Narnia a little over ten years ago. While Lina and Lily had their own special relationship, Lina and Darby were something else – most always together, and when together often touching.

First it was Chris Ann (Cocker Spaniel) by herself; then Mitzi (likely a border collie mix, about six months old) was rescued from the streets of Richmond by Vickie – so then it was Chris and Mitz. Then Darby was part of a litter rescued by a co-worker of Vickie’s; so then it was Chris, Mitzi, and Darby. Then Chris went to Narnia – and Darby really missed her, looked all over for her. Chris was the older dog and Darby was the puppy.

Years later Mitzi went to Narnia and then it was just Darby. Frankly Darby didn’t appear to miss Mitzi very much; Mitz could be temperamental, but I chalk that up to her troubled puppyhood on the streets of Richmond. Mitz and Darby were with us when we moved to the Boston area, then to the Berkshires, and then back to Chesterfield. They could be buddies and have fun, and they were great at chasing squirrels…but I admit that Mitz could be grouchy at times…a nip here, a nip there…the fruit of a troubled existence on city streets no doubt.

Darby was by herself for a couple of years, I had a tough time getting over the loss of Mitzi…she was my puppy. She didn’t have much use for women, but she liked men; she really liked Vickie’s Dad; in her old age she came to tolerate Vickie, maybe even appreciate her at times.

When we first brought Lina home we let her down on the grass in our fenced backyard, then we let Darby out on the deck to see her new sister – oh my! Darby took one look at Lina and let out a bark that was probably picked up on a seismograph out in Colorado. Poor Lina ran into a corner of the wooden fence with her face toward the fence; “If I can’t see that big thing then maybe that big thing can’t see me.”

Not a good start to a relationship.

Her First Bark

Lina was a quiet puppy, in fact, she didn’t bark for about six months. Then one evening we were in our family room, Lina lay on the hearth rug in front of the fireplace…all was quiet and then Lina barked – she startled us and she startled herself, she was quite surprised. She looked around as if to say, “What was that?”

A sweet memory.

Holding and Carrying Lina

How long ago was it that she tore her first ACL (more properly her cruciate)? Four years? Three years? Then a year or so later she tore her second one. Both in her back legs, both partial tares.

Lina had a pretty good recovery from the first tare, but the second one was pronounced and from that point we had to really limit her activity. Not that she couldn’t go on yard patrol, but it was better for her not to go on yard patrol in early afternoon when the “mail Lady” delivered mail, for the mail Lady is very much a dog person and she comes bearing treats and kind words for puppies – no puppy can walk to the mail Lady, for the mail Lady deserves a run and happy barks.

The second tare was pretty bad, and after agonizing over surgery we opted for laser treatments and acupuncture and were quite pleased and thankful for the results.

Up until the second tare, which happened when Lina was going down the stairs from our first floor to the basement to be with Vickie, Lina could go up and down stairs, but from that point on I carried her. (We also had a ramp built from our deck to the yard).

This meant that every morning and every night I carried her down and up the stairs to and from the second floor which is where Lily and Lina slept on their dog beds in our room. It also meant that if the ramp was icy that I carried Lina down and up our front porch steps; or if we had a tornado warning I carried her down into the basement and back up. Because Lina was a “long dog” (a Basset and Beagle mix – favoring the Basset side of her lineage) and also a chunky monkey, she was a bit unwieldy to carry – making it a challenge for Vickie to do the porch and impossible for her to carry Lina from floor to floor.

I never got tired of carrying Lina, I never wearied of holding her. When Lina was a puppy and we picked her up from friends in Louisa county to bring her home, Vickie drove the car and I held Lina on my lap.

When it was time for Lina’s last car ride, I carried her to the car and placed her on her bed in the back of our SUV. I carried her into the vet’s office and held her on my lap in the waiting room. I carried her into the examining room and got down on the floor with her. When the vet’s assistant asked me if I wanted a chair I said, “No”.

I needed to be on the floor with her, holding her as best I could…along with Vickie…until….

I miss holding her close to me…

Her Collar

Our dog’s collars have been part of their identity. This goes beyond a dog license or a medallion indicating rabies vaccination; it is the one piece of attire that they weren’t born with, the item that is bestowed upon them by their human parents, their Mom and Dad.

          When we remove collars to replace a dog license or vaccination tag there is a look of anxiety, a sense of the uncomfortable that does not abate until the collar is once again where it belongs, on our beloved pet.

          “We need to remember to bring her collar with us when we leave,” I said to Vickie as we sat in the waiting room. I thought it best to verbalize this important matter, lest when overwhelmed with emotion we forget – though I don’t know how we would forget such a thing.

          We would not remove her collar until she was gone, until she had breathed her last, until her precious heart ceased beating. We wanted her to know that she was ours until that last breath, that she was loved, that she will always be loved.

          A last kiss. Another “We love you.” A last stroke of her head.

          I gently removed her collar.

Lina

I open my eyes, it is still dark. My heart aches. I have to get up, it is Sunday and they expect me at church. If I don’t show up they’ll notice I’m not there – after all, I’m the pastor.

I don’t want to descend the stairs from our bedroom to the first floor; I know how empty it will be. Lily and Lina have been sleeping downstairs for quite a while now, rather than in the bedroom with us. Last night, for the first time in months, Lily slept on her foam bed in the bedroom.

The first floor is quiet, still, not a sound. No tail thumping the floor in anticipation of seeing “Daddy”.

I can’t help it, I expect to see her; knowing she isn’t there I still expect to see her.

What is this mystery that binds a man or a woman to a pet, and a pet to a woman or a man? What is this mystery that gives us so much joy and companionship, and so much sorrow?

Emptiness; the hallway is empty, the living room is empty, the family room where she would normally be in the morning is empty. Empty but not empty for I still see her, I feel her, I think I hear her – there she is at her water bowl in the kitchen, there is that tail wagging as she looks up to me.

Lina and Her Tree

You may recall that last year our basset-mix Lina developed an affection for one of our Christmas trees. Well, the tree is back and so is Lina (photo below).

It’s hard to see puppies grow old, you know it’s going to happen and you enjoy the time you have with them, but you know what’s ahead and they don’t. Lina will be 14, the Lord willing, in April. We have been blessed to have dogs who live long, and we always grieve with others who lose their pets before their life expectancies.

Not too long ago we visited friends and asked, “Where is Betsy?” Betsy was a sweet yellow Lab around four years old. They told us that Betsy died of cancer. As I heard the words I could imagine the pain of our friends; the tears, the sorrow, the hurt.

Lina can’t see well anymore; her cataracts have gotten worse. Thankfully she can still hear well and we talk to her a lot so she’ll know where we are. When we had Mitzi years ago, her eyesight held up in her senior years but her hearing didn’t so we learned to speak loud and make a little noise when we entered a room she was in so we wouldn’t startle her if her head was turned away from us.

Lily turns ten in a couple of weeks. When we got Lily, Lina was almost four. Lina thought Lily an intrusion – we had recently lost Darby and it was obvious that Lina missed her, every morning she checked out the place where Darby had slept. Darby and Lina were always together, and often they were touching. While Lina and Lily are often together, they aren’t as inseparable as Lina and Darby were.

Well, in a world of insanity it’s nice and comforting to have puppies (they are always puppies to us).

Who knows, when we get to Narnia we may recognize that our relationship with puppies was one of the great miracles of life here in the Shadowlands – or we may realize it now.

Lina and the Tree

Dogs are curious creatures, they have their ways about them. This past Christmas season Lina formed an attachment to one of our Christmas trees - the Crystal Tree. In the evening, after dinner, she would go into the living room and lie down by the tree. She's been around this tree for years but had never shown any particular interest in it until this year.

"I really like this tree."

"I really really like this tree.."

"What happened to my tree? The top is gone!"

"Where is my tree? I miss it."

"This is NOT the same...I'm depressed."

More on a Tale of Tails

After Mitzi went to Narnia it was quite some time before we considered another dog – so for a couple of years it was just Darby, which I think was probably fine with Darby because as long as Darby had Vickie Darby was fine. Besides, as previously mentioned, The Mitz could be temperamental and snarl and bite at Darby – maybe Mitz suffered from PTS due to her childhood experiences running the streets of Richmond. In any case, Darby was fine, we were fine, and I grieved over the loss of Mitzi – Mitzi was my dog, Darby was Vickie’s dog…though as I pointed out over the course of her life, Darby was my dog too/two.

A coworker’s basset hound had a litter of pups, she insisted that the father was a border collie, but we’ve seen no evidence of that with Lina, next in our line of puppies – our guess is that the father is a beagle – we don’t discuss this around Lina, no reason to bring up questions of such a nature.

Lina has a black tail with a white tip, and when she’s chasing something the tip is in the air and she is moving like a rocket sled, but when she isn’t chasing something or running to see us when we return home she is s-l-o-w….v-e-r-y  s-l-o-w. When she is unleashing her energy she is amazingly fast, but otherwise she seems to operate on the assumption that if there is no reason to be in a hurry why bother with being in a hurry. He tail is long and thin and when she sleeps she can curl it up so that is touches her nose. When she was a puppy a neighbor looked at Lina and said, “She sure is long, but it looks like she has all her parts.”

Just before we adopted her we had read George MacDonald’s The Princess and Curdie. Curdie had a faithful dog-like companion named Lina – so that’s where Lina’s name came from and she has lived up to her name. There is nothing quite like having a dog as a friend.

Darby’s Tail

Chris Ann had a bobbed tail that was like a metronome on high speed, Mitzi had a foofy tail, the tip of which, when her tail was curled, would touch her back as she pranced; Darby, our tan shepherd – lab mix, had a long tail that was mainly straight, but with just a little bend upward when she walked or ran.

You may recall that shortly after moving to Richmond that Vickie and I discussed getting another dog and that we decided against it; and that within weeks I arrived home on a Friday to find Mitzi keeping Vickie and Chris Ann company. For the next three years it was Bob, Vickie, Christy, and Mitzi; and while Mitz could be temperamental, by and large the four of us got along pretty well. Then one day I arrived home, walked through the kitchen and into the dining room, and there was Vickie with a puppy.

A coworker had found a litter of puppies in the woods around her home, brought them into work in a box, and one of them somehow picked Vickie as her new mom. By this time of life and marriage I was smart enough to know that I had no say in the matter of yet another dog.

A couple of nights after the puppy’s arrival we were out to dinner (that is Vickie and I were out to dinner, not the puppy and I, not the puppy and Vickie and I…just Vickie and I) and were discussing what name to give the puppy. We asked the waitress what she thought and she said she’d give it some thought. Later that evening she told us that the matter had been put to the staff in the kitchen and that Darby was the name they agreed on – since Darby seemed like a fine name to us, Darby it would be.

Darby, with her straight tail, would be Momma’s dog unlike any dog we’ve had – she loved Vickie; oh she loved me too, but she loved Vickie. Wherever Vickie went Darby went, from a puppy to an old girl. Darby is kind of a link in our dog family – Darby knew Chris Ann and she knew Mitzi, and she also knew Lina (our basset mix); now we have Lina and Lily – so Darby is the link in the chain of dogs. Darby could pass on to Lina what she knew of Chris and Mitz, and Lina could pass on to Lily what she knew of Darby and what Darby told her about Mitz and Chris. If you are not a dog person this will make so sense – but try to enjoy the ride.

There is another thing about Darby, not to be discussed here in detail, maybe another time, but for the record I’ll state it: Darby was with us during some great times and low times – she traveled with us from Richmond to the Boston area and then to Western Mass and then back to Richmond; then to the Shenandoah Valley that turned out to be a valley of the shadow of death. Darby died shortly before we moved back to Richmond – I think she had done all she could for us and that the old girl just couldn’t do anymore. My how we loved her! We’ve loved them all, we love the two we have now – they are all special – but if a dog can have an old soul then Darby had one.

As I said, Darby was Vickie’s dog, she was Momma’s dog – as long as she could see Vickie she was content – it’s good to be loved by a dog.