Several years ago, I wrote a piece called “For the Love of Cats.” What I am about to say will make more sense if you read that before you continue with this. If you haven’t the time to follow the link, I will summarize by saying that I realized back then that God loves His entire creation – even cats – so if I am going to be more like Him, I should love cats too.
A couple years after I wrote “For the Love of Cats,” the cat
for whom I had begun my transformation left us. I say that quite literally
because she was fifteen years old and had been unwell for some time. As cats
often will, she wandered into the desert by our campsite one day and did not
return. I searched the area for three days but never found a trace of her.
Obviously, Karen mourned her passing, but she and I concluded that it was her
time, and in her cat-like independence, she chose when and how to leave. In
that time and place I wrote the following poem:
I Heard the Coyotes Sing
I heard
the coyotes sing this morning
Somewhere
far away up the slope
That
rises to the eight-thousand-foot ridge
Where
the sun made its entrance an hour before.
It’s an
eerie sound that coyotes make
When the
pack joins in chorus at night.
In the
daylight it has a mournful tune
Not as
frightening as the black night cry.
The
river far below my cliff perch
Laughed
at me with sparkling eyes
as it
wound its way around the ox bows
Thick
with sedge grass and oasis greens.
I
laughed back at the shining river
When the
resident frogs began arguing
On the
muddy bank warmed by the early sun
Waiting
for the next free-range cattle-fed fly.
Cheerful
birdcalls rose from the valley
As crows
rode the updraft above the cliff
And
called me names I didn’t understand
With
raspy, insubordinate undertones.
Behind
me in the silent mesquite and sage
I thought
I heard the soft mewing of Sadie
Our dear
old feline friend who yesterday
Slipped
into the desert for her final catnap.
I heard
the coyotes sing this morning
And I
stopped to listen to the sound,
Telling
in its way how vast and varied
Is the
circle of God’s creation.
For the last few years of Sadie’s time with us, I had been
saying that when she was gone, our cat owning days were over. It seemed only
fair to me. For nearly fifty years I had put up with cats. Surely my wife could
live without a feline resident in deference to my desires. She agreed, but
mournfully. There were occasional hints, and there was the picture of Sadie as
her I-phone wallpaper. I finally realized that she would never not want another
cat.
After three cat-less
years, I relented. I did ask that we look for the most hypo-allergenic breed
available. The trouble with that was the cost. Russian Blues and Cornish Rexes
and such were going to cost upwards of $1,000. Oh, drat and phooey! Let’s just rescue
a kitten and be done with it. So we did. Introducing Mademoiselle Arabella Minette
– Bella for short.
I am not telling this tale of a cat for self-aggrandizement. After all, this blog is why heaven matters most. Besides my aforementioned discovery that I am required to love cats, I want to emphasize the nature of love – for cats and people. If you love someone (particularly a human someone), there will be times when you must go out of your way to show that love; love without action is not true love after all. Just as faith requires action to prove it is genuine, love that does not act is meaningless.
Imagine John 3:16 ending with “God loved the world.” Without
“that He gave His one and only Son,” it wouldn’t have much power to convince us
of His love. And remember that He loved us “while
we were still sinners.” God didn’t show His love because we were so
loveable – quite the opposite. He loves us unconditionally meaning no matter
what condition we are in. If you truly love someone, you must love in deed.
That’s love indeed!
good one
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