TGIF
As I write this, my moms cat is dying on her lap.
The cat is finding solace there as he approaches the end of his time with her and waits for the end he seems to know is imminent.
My mom is quietly weeping while she pets him, checking occasionally to see if he is breathing, speaking softly to him in the voice he knows and loves.
He is barely, yet audibly, purring.
Mom has chosen to allow him to die here, with her…he is not in pain and the trip to the vet would be traumatic and cruel.
To die at home, held by his beloved mom, is as it should be.
My heart is breaking over the impending death of an old friend…he’s been here twenty some years…and from the impact of his loss on my 81 year old mother who is already suffering from age and dementia.
I wonder what she’s thinking…what she’s fearing…I know the pain she’s feeling.
She has lost much and now she must deal with a loss that is a part of her heart.
This is where I got my love for cats…which I count as a rich inheritance.
I am trying to be responsible and make the arrangements for Punkins cremation…knowing that it won’t be long until I have to make arrangements for her as well.
The scene in my front room is as sad a scene as you can paint.
In this darkness I heard the whisper of God…a word of hope.
This is not the final scene.
“For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. For the creation waits with eager longing 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 will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.” (Romans 8:18–25 ESV)
There will be a day when all this pain, suffering, and death will end and the whole creation…including people and cats and all that has been…will be redeemed and set free…transformed by the love and mercy of God into what He intended.
The rail thin, dying cat and the grieving old woman will be whole again, free from the pain and corruption of this age.
Today or tomorrow the cat will be released from this place and will take his place at the gate of heaven waiting for his momma.
His sister, Miss Kitty, will meet him there and tell him how good Chester has been since he arrived.
Someday…mom and I will be reunited with all our pets…and probably some people, too.
The people will have to wait…
This is the hope I live in, the hope I wait for, the hope that is as real to me as the sadness of today.
This is what my Jesus has done and what He’s going to do.
He’s done it for me, for you, for all we love.
Someday the weeping will be from sheer joy…
If cats shed in heaven there’s cat hair on the pristine robe of the Master…
Make your own application…
Postscript: He passed quietly this morning, falling asleep next to his mom.
Thank you for sharing your heart Michael.
I have no words except to say that all 3 of you are in my thoughts, heart and prayers. As always I will share this with Cece, and I’m sure she’ll cry as well… 🤗💕🙏
Thank you for the always kind words, my friend…and for those prayers as well.
Give your mom a hug from another old lady in her 80s….
She is giving her dear cat a perfect end of life here…. as hard as it may be
God keep you both
Thank you, Em
Bittersweet.
God bless you and your mom.
Come quickly, Lord Jesus.
Michael,
I’m sitting in my arm chair with my sassy pandemic rescue kitty purring on my lap. I’m praying for you, your mom, and that kitty will have a peaceful end.
Thank you, CK.
Thank you, Linn.
With tears in my heart and eyes I read this beautifully bittersweet TGIF and kept hearing this Christmas carol line in my head “A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices”. Thank you for reminding us that hope is what keeps us going every day.
❤️
Yrs, hope and conviction ARE what keep us going….
“This is my Father’s world the battle is NOT done….”
Some day (soon, I hope) earth and heaven will be one!
God keep your mother, Michael give her conviction and hope
Having lost our precious dog Otto just recently, and still feeling that loss as we expect him to round every corner, my heart aches for you and your Mom.
Closer to my heart is my concern of my daughter.
These words were a balm to my soul. I believe every word. Thank you.
Pam,
That was a wonderful addition to this piece…thank you, my faithful friend…
Thanks, Em…it’s a tough morning…she’s broken up
Alex,
Thank you…sorry for the loss of Otto…it all hurts the same.
I’m thankful if the words helped in any way…I believe it all too.
“wee expect him to round every corner…”
When our last German Shepherd had to be put down, it was months before I quit stepping over him – over the spot in the kitchen that he’d always been while I worked there.
Up here in the mountains now we have a small cat cemetery under a big fir tree where my daughter’s kitties of years gone by have been played to rest in little shoe boxes.
I hope Michael’s mother’s cat, now gone, has a special place picked out for it, too.
Not a huge fan of cats personally and my wife is allergic to them. But I love my dog Lucy.
Regardless of whether a cat or dog, or hamster or what ever, we get attached to them and when they die it’s as if we lost a close family member.
Em,
I took him to the cat funeral home for cremation and we’ll get him back on Tuesday.
We have a sad collection of urns here waiting for the Day…
Pray God gives your mother comfort…
“sad collection?”
No Michael, they are statements of hope and faith – IMHO
My daughter lost one dear cat. Neighbor told her he saw a coyote go past with the cat in its mouth. A Wyoming rescue from a parking lot. She’d opened her car door and Revel jumped in. He must have sensed that he’d be welcome – he was….
Thank you, Duane…
I will admit this, and it is to my eternal shame and it is truly pathetic or at least that is what I have had branded on my soul as an evangelical. grief is always evil unless it helps the apologetic, one is branded, or one is in management. I loved my moms cat and when my mom died I took great solace in being with around the cat. We became quite close I bought her a laptop to watch her videos and during those long nights when I don’t sleep. I actually sleep a few hours every other night maybe. It was comforting. I was so utterly disgusted with myself for feeling, any feelings another gift from being in the faith. The cat died, like almost everyone I know and I felt grief deeply. Again I was totally disgusted with myself and was so angry for having any reaction. Now I don’t show this outwardly because it my inconvenience someone which is another sin I try to avoid.
It is hard to get this stuff that has seared ones soul, if I even have one, another gift that keeps on giving. I am amazed at how Michael and others share and grieve. I envy that.
Brian! Quit beating yourself up. Whoever is responsible for ingraining a lack of self worth in you is in danger of hell’s fires….
You show us all here that you are just a normal human being…
One of us, if I’m allowed to observe what I see in you!
Stay safe and God keep
So sorry for the loss of your Mom’s cat! Vi and I would love to have cats and dogs!
Thanks, Zachary…there are a blessing, indeed.
Brian,
Part of the reason I write these is so others will feel permission to grieve…I think you have to pass through grief fully to know God as he really is…
Blessings, my friend.
Michael…I’ve read through the comments and see that your mom’s cat is at peace.
I’m sorry for this season, and for the pain, but I also hold my breath with you. Watching my mother pass away, via FaceTime, was one of the most holy experiences of my life. I had just taught at our homeschool tutorial and my brother called to urge haste in calling. We had FaceTimed the night before, and Mom was lingering.
I called, and watched the image of my frail mother on my computer screen. All my brothers, their wives and my father surrounded her. They moved the phone I was connected to around the room as we talked softly over the span of four hours. Each of them sitting in turn and holding her hand. There was a clear awareness, unspoken, of when it was time to move aside for Dad to hold her hand.
Steve, my husband, sat with me and waited and watched. My kids came in intervals, peeking through the door to see if Grandma was still alive.
When it was done we all wept. And we all knew it had been good and holy.
We had a holy moment with my children when we had to put our dog to sleep two years ago almost…we dug a grave in the back woods and an incredibly kind vet came to our house and eased his pain from cancer. All the children were able to say goodbye in their own way…some petting him, some speaking to him, and some watching from a distance. Even the one who was away ended up coming and burying their face one more time in that soft coat before we wrapped him in a blanket and laid him in the ground.
I’m getting long-winded…but I want you to know all of us who have watched and waited and held our breath feel that catch in our heart again as you describe this scene. And we all watch and wait and hold our breath with you for your mother…however long the waiting continues.
One last thing before I write a novel. I have to, of course, share a Buechner quotation. From the book Godric, and is the source for the quote in Andrew Peterson’s son “Lay Me Down” (Wear is the name of the river):
Praise, Praise!” I croak. Praise God for all that’s holy, cold, and dark. Praise him for all we lose, for all the river of the years bears off. Praise him for stillness in the wake of pain. Praise him for emptiness. And as you race to spill into the sea, praise him yourself, old Wear. Praise him for dying and the peace of death.
In the little church I built of wood for Mary, I hollowed out a place for him. Perkin brings him by the pail and pours him in. Now that I can hardly walk, I crawl to meet him there. He takes me in his chilly lap to wash me of my sins. Or I kneel down beside him till within his depths I see a star.
Sometimes this star is still. Sometimes she dances. She is Mary’s star. Within that little pool of Wear she winks at me. I wink at her. The secret that we share I cannot tell in full. But this much I will tell. What’s lost is nothing to what’s found, and all the death that ever was, set next to life, would scarcely fill a cup.
Sarah,
This was wonderfully, painfully, holy to my heart.
Thank you, for the balm and the brilliance…
This strikes a chord for me because I recently had to make the horrible decision to put a beloved kitty down. We are down to one cat and I have yet to go and pick up his ashes from the vet eventhough it’s been a few weeks. Trying to be brave enough to add his ashes to the mantle where our dogs ashes already sit. It’s some comfort to know our pets are waiting for us before they go into heaven with us but all the harder to bare knowing your mom isn’t long for the kingdom of heaven either. My heart goes out to you and your mom with love and prayers in the time you have left with her as you mourn the loss of adding another pet angel to heaven. ❤
Sarah W., wonderful ponder – thank you
We have a VERY large, bright star up here in the mountains that sometimes looks exactly like an angel looking down on us….
Will our much loved animals join us in Eternity? I don’t know, but I have a short list to request of the Father…… ? ? ? 🙏
That’s beautiful Michael. I read this to the kids the other night at bedtime. I choked up a bit trying to get through it…
Melody,
Blessings and comfort to you…thank you and my heart is with you.
TNV,
Thanks…I hope it planted seeds of faith and not just sadness…