Animal Graces (or A Cat Named Blue)

Every once in awhile my wife commits a nearly-unforgivable sin.  We had just moved to Fargo in 1991 so I could take my first call as a Senior Pastor.  Brian was five and Jessi one.  Short on money, and wanting to raise Jessi at home in her early years, as we had done with Brian, Mary decided to start a home daycare, called “Fingerprints.”  She got officially licensed and somewhere along the way got the idea that it would be good for her new endeavor to have a pet.  She did her research and concluded a Black Cocker Spaniel was the best kind of dog to have in her daycare.  Now, here comes the nearly-unforgivable part.  She took my children to a pet store, had them pick out their favorite Cocker Spaniel, and only then "consulted" me as to whether we could purchase a pet.  I was not at all keen on the idea, but, of course, they just had to take me to the store to meet this adorable puppy.  Then came the “Daddy, please, please.”  I don’t need to tell you more.  Welcome to the family, Suzie.  

(Suzie in the foreground guarding the kids at our cabin.)

However, Suzie apparently did not entirely fill the pet need.  Jessi (who over the years has had every kind of pet imaginable, including a ferret who kept squeezing under my office door when I was trying to write sermons) decided she wanted a kitten for her 3^rd birthday.  So, since the pet seal had now been broken, we decided to get her a kitten, which we named Sam.  However, the first days we had him in the house Brian was at home sick, and Sam bonded with him more than with Jessi, which did not amuse her.

That Thanksgiving, as was our custom, we spent the weekend at our cabin in Minnesota.  Jessi heard some meowing out in the woods.   Her search resulted in a cute, tiny, long-haired, yellow kitten, shivering from hunger and cold.  She, of course, said she wanted to keep him, and I finally put my pet-foot down.  Enough pets!

  

Here is where the versions of the story part company.  I thought my “enough” was a categorical “No!”  Jessi insists we said that if the kitten was still there in the morning she could keep him (I don’t think so!).  Anyway, Mary and I awakened to find a cabin devoid of Jessi.  Our search found her on the front porch holding the kitten.

I was still firmly opposed.  But Jessi wanted to feed the kitten, which she did as she was eating her breakfast cereal.  Somehow, as the kitten tried to drink the milk spilling from Jessi’s spoon, he bit her on the chin.  Oh boy, here we go.  Now we need to take the kitten home with us and present him to the vet to make sure he isn’t rabid, which meant keeping him for several days.  Again, I don’t need to tell you more.  Now we have a third pet, a cat name Blue after the Blueberry River Farm where he showed up on our front porch.

Seven years later we moved to Phoenix for another pastoral call, in two mini-vans, one with me, son Brian, and Suzie, the other with Mary, Jessi, Sammy and Blue.  A  1700 mile trip staying in Motel 6's since they always accept pets.

In Fargo we never let our pets stay outside of the house.  We reversed things in sunny Phoenix, and never let them in the house.  Adventuresome Sam often jumped the back fence to go marauding through the neighborhood in search of mice and other kinds of fun.  Eventually the day came when we all looked at each other and asked, “Has anyone seen Sam?”  No one had, and no one ever would again.  Some stories don’t actually have an ending.

Now, it was my turn to commit the cardinal sin.  A couple of years later we were at our cabin in the summer and my good friend, Ike, told me his purebred Yellow Labrador Retriever had been bred with another purebred  Yellow Lab, and he had a bunch of puppies he wanted to give away.  I grew up hunting in North Dakota, and the idea of a purebred lab for free excited even me.  I could not resist the idea of going to see the pups, taking Jessi along.  I don’t need to tell you more.  Welcome to the family, Kira.

Now, even though Blue is clearly alpha, he had no time for Kira, this large puppy who wanted to play 24 hours a day.  I took her to dog training right away, which helped, but she was playful beyond words, which continued to drive Blue nuts and caused him to hide outside, afraid to come through the pet door to eat.  Kira’s training included how to hunt, and she turned out to be a great tracker and retriever when Brian and I went quail hunting.

Eventually Suzie had lived a “full dog life” (14 dog years, 72 human) and started to show the signs of aging.  Her breathing became very labored and we could tell she was near death.  We lay her on a rug just outside the sliding glass door from our bedroom.  Brian, now in high school, asked if we could  bring her into the house.  So we carried her into our bedroom, and Brian lay down and slept on the floor all night, holding Suzie as she took her last breaths.

Eventually Jessi’s parade of pets had to include another dog.  She had now entered the “rescue phase” of pet loving. You know how that goes.  A friend who regularly rescues pets asked Jessi to watch Soli (short for Solomon, and pronounced "Sully", in a way I have never quite figured out) for a few days.  So now Jessi shows up with a cross of a Labrador and a Rhodesian Ridgeback.  I don’t need to tell you more.

By now Blue had had enough of hiding out.  He gave Soli a couple of alpha paw swipes, and that was that.  He regained his position as prince of the yard.  Now it was Kira’s turn to be overwhelmed.  She is way too kind to ever act alpha, and so she just had to learn how to get along with another pup who wanted to play constantly.

In 2010 I left my call in Phoenix to take another Senior Pastor position in Arlington, Virginia, and eventually Jessi decided it was time for her to join us out east.  Brian took Kira down to live with him in Las Cruces, New Mexico, and I moved Jessi and all of her earthly belongings, along with Blue and Soli, in her Kia Soul to our home in in Virginia.  A 2300 mile trip.  Hello Motel 6's once again.

(Kira guarding herself from Piper)

Kira is now 13 1/2 years old (100 human years) and learning how to live with yet another puppy, as Brian and Sara also have the rescue bug, and last year adopted a Bluetick Coonhound named Piper.  Once again Kira is fending off a pup who loves to play constantly, and as a herder, to nip at Kira’s and anyone else ankles.  Kira is definitely showing signs of aging, and recently had a cancerous tumor removed from her leg.

I admit that I was a reluctant pet lover.  Now, looking back over these 25 years, I see so clearly what a blessing they have been in our lives. You might call it “animal graces.”  For many of us one of our first experiences of unconditional love was our pets.  When I visit Brian and Sara I watch Kira get up excitedly on his arthritic legs when Brian comes home and then proceed to follow him wherever he goes in the house.  Blue would do the same with Jessi.  It was always like a two-person parade.  Blue also insisted on sleeping right on Jessi, day or night, sometimes so close to her face that it looked like she had grown a furry beard.

Pets teach us the grace of forgiveness.  We may neglect them, ignore them, forget about them, leave them outside in the cold too long, but they don’t sulk (at least not for very long).

Pets protect us in times of loneliness and misunderstanding.  When all in life may seem to be going wrong, they are always there for us, to listen and console.

And, perhaps, most importantly, they teach us about life and death.

So many people say they want to die quickly.  We learned from Sam how difficult it is when you don’t have a chance to say goodbye.  Suzie gave us the chance to tell her how much we loved her, to do what we could to make her as comfortable as possible as she was dying, and she let us hold her to the very end.

Pets make us better people, and they give us the chance to learn how to love and let go, to embrace and remember.  They even assist us spiritually, helping us to believe that, in spite of all its pain and loss, this universe is a good place to be.

In October Blue quickly began to show his age (23 cat years, 108 human years).  On October 30 I got a text from Jessi:  “I think Blue is giving up.  But I want him to die at home with me.  He keeps reaching for me to hold his paw and will scoot and stumble to me just to be on my body. I think he knows I am not ready and is trying to comfort me still.”

“You know, I secretly always planned to have Blue be my something blue on my wedding day.  I thought Soli and Blue would be there to meet my future husband and judge him and start a life together with him like a pre-made family.  I didn’t think I would say goodbye to him like this.  I thought he was going to hold on until it was time for me to have human children to love.”

And so we arranged for Blue never to be alone over the next four days, until his death on November 3 at 9:54 am.  Jessi worked part- time, her roommate, Kara, stayed with her when she could, and I filled in the gaps.  Near the end Jessi wrote:

“As hard as this week has been, I’m incredibly grateful for it.  This time has been almost a perfect end to his and my story.  Something about all this has actually felt fair, which we all know is rare, if ever possible, in death.  We’ve decided to cremate him after he passes and take his and Suzie’s ashes up to Minnesota to our cabin.  I know Blue should live there for eternity.  It’ll make taking my nephews and nieces and cousins and other family members there more special knowing Blue will be there with his love and grace.”