One thing we understand about God is that He is outside time.  He sees the whole.  Thus Robert Frost is incorrect when he says “nothing gold can stay”.  Though the “gold” in our lives rises and subsides and is gone, the beauty and truth of that gold is eternal.  The blossom is as beautiful as the fruit, which is as beautiful as the seed.  What Frost lacks is perspective; he does not comprehend Time.

My cat had a beautiful life.  From being a sickly little kitten to a cranky adult, right down to his last breaths in my arms, there’s beauty to be enjoyed and cherished.  Even the ache I feel with him passing is so laced with gratitude that it’s something to be cherished.  The fact that I miss this creature so much is evidence of the great gift it was to have him at all.

CS Lewis said that the anticipation and memory of an event are as precious as the event itself.  Quote from Out of the Silent Planet: “A pleasure is full grown only when it is remembered. You are speaking, Hmân, as if the pleasure were one thing and the memory another.”

This life is bitterly, harshly, deeply hard sometimes.  The loss of my cat is a small thing compared to the griefs that this life can bring.  But it is an example of how even grief can be turned to joy when it’s seen in the context of truth.  This life is for us to have joy.  God sent me a cat to increase my joy.  How can I be sad when I know this, even though our time together is over?

It makes me think of my grandparents, too.  How much more precious were the times I spent with them now that three of them are gone?  The grief crystallizes and sanctifies the joy.  These memories spark a fierce love for them and a great yearning to see them again.  That I will see them again is clear in the light of faith and hope; we have the assurance.

We have to see the whole.  Within the whole of any life there’s much beauty. Then, when we realize that this life is just a sliver of time, we begin to wonder about eternal lives.  We can have joy today, joy tomorrow, and then Endless joy.

So those are my ramblings late on a Friday when I’m thinking about my cat. Now I’m going to go pet Eustace.

Little Jack was a “free kittens” ad in the newspaper.  I went to see the kittens, and they had two; one black, and one calico.  I couldn’t decide, so I took them both.  The black male I named Cracker Jack (usually just Jack) and the calico female I named Sweet Anne-Marie (usually just Marie).  The little chickens spent their whole first day hiding in the closet. 

When Marie was killed by a car, Jack was my little furry comforter. 

Jack was definitely my cat; he’d sleep with me in the bed.  He would always come when I called.  He was the strangest little animal; he loved to play with pants you’d leave on the floor, shooting through the pant legs.  He’d always get into boxes of packing peanuts and make a huge mess.  He would perch in high places and swat at your head. 

Jack had an easy purr; he’d always be glad for me to scratch his ears.  He’d let me play rough with him, rolling him around and tickling his belly.

Tonight after work Jack was just lying on the floor in the sun room.  He’d been losing weight, but today he felt like just skin and bones.  I got out some of his favorite wet cat food, but he wouldn’t take any.

I had to take him to a vet in Sevierville because there were none open closer.  After ruling out FIV, the vet did X-rays and blood work.  The X-ray showed so much fluid in his lungs that it was a wonder he was still breathing.  When the blood work came back, it showed his liver had failed as well.  The only real choice was to let him go.

While we were waiting, I held him and petted him.  He showed no anxiety and just seemed content to be with me.  He purred, in spite of the condition of his lungs.  He purred right up to the end.

We have a short time with our little friends.  I wouldn’t trade any of the sorrow and hurt I feel right now for the great friendship I had with my little furry buddy.  Between the sorrow and the loss I feel gratitude for such a good cat.  I’ll miss him terribly for a while, but I have it on good authority that the Grace of our Savior heals even these hurts.  After the sorrow of this life, even in the middle of it, there is hope “smiling brightly before us”. 

So long, Jack.  You were the best cat a man could have.

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Isaac has developed this nurturing side lately. He regularly puts stuffed animals and dolls to bed. sometimes in his own bed other times he sets up a bed in the livingroom with a pillow and a blanket. Today he was playing with his trucks next to Jack when he noticed that Jack was falling to sleep. He ran to his room and retrieved his ‘duck blanket’ and layed it gently on the cat! If you haven’t already guessed from the picture, Jack is our cat.