
I got a call from my neighbor Saturday morning. She had something to show me. I came over and there was this tiny orange tabby cat softly mewing in her kitchen. The cat had been left behind at a meeting she attended, discarded by her owner. My friend had brought her home thinking to keep her. I walked the cat across the street to show her to my kids. Next thing I know, my neighbor can't keep her, but could I? Hmmm....I've been wanting a cat but this is terrible timing. We're cash poor for the next few months while Robert transitions to his new job, holidays, birthdays and buying a pig and half a cow. But where would this kitty go? To the humane society?! If ever there was a misnomer, I think that association counts! Heart strings pulled, we decide to keep the kitty but I am in severe denial. The whole while I'm looking at this kitten and wondering if this is one of those acts of God, a blessing momentarily disguised as a trial. I'm still up in the air on this. The kitten, Jenny we named her, is covered in fleas. My friend gave her a flea bath the night before she took her home and I just gave her another tonight. My husband oh so patiently picked out each flea after her bath, no small feat given that she is a long-haired cat. My husband also set up a little bed for her after her bath on a heating pad. Jenny sleeps right now in seventh heaven. I have to call the vet tomorrow. One of her eye's is goopy and may have a cold in it. There will be shots and now a litter box to clean as we get the kitten house broke. Let's not forget that we are leaving town this weekend and she will have to stay somewhere else. (Thank goodness for in-laws!)
But in all of this there is still that something in me that keeps thinking this will end up being a blessing for my family and for me even though now it is a monstrous burden wrapped up in a few ounces of orange fluff. Right now, Jenny has shown me the marshmallow heart of my husband, an avowed cat hater, who has tenderly cared for the kitten even to the point of letting it curl up with him as he tried to take a Sunday afternoon nap. "She wouldn't stop meowing so I had to do something," he gruffly states to defend his actions. Right now, Jenny is giving me hope that as I tend this kitten, so to will my Father tend me. If we, being evil, can care for her with such immediate tenderness and love, how much more will my Father, who has known me since before my birth, take care of me? Right now, Jenny is proof of love and goodness and somehow, odd as it may sound, a wisp of my mother. Right now, Jenny is the balm of Gilead for my heart. Who knows what tomorrow may bring and if I may still feel weepy eyed over this kitten, who will undoubtedly claw at my furniture, defecate in inappropriate places, meow all night giving us no sleep, require time, attention and money we don't have, but right now, there is a feeling in my soul that this is the right choice.
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