In contrast, what's not to like about dogs? They're always happy to see you. They would cheerfully give their life to protect you. Dogs are warm and affectionate. They greet you with ecstatic whimpers and a tail wagging fast enough to start a tornado.
Not so much.
On a good day, a cat will ignore you. Most days, a cat will sidle up to you and purr for a while. And then, with absolutely no warning, it will turn, claw you deeply enough to draw blood, and dart away.
Having made these general observations about dogs and cats, for the first half of my life I hadn't the time of day for a cat. Then in the mid 1980's, the neighbor's who lived above us had a cat that had kittens.
Two of the little siblings, one a tabby, the other more or less solid tan, got in the habit of wandering down to our house. Once here, they would revel in all sorts of mischief. This did nothing to improve my attitude toward their species.
Other days, the two kittens would make their way into the garage (unbeknownst to me) and get utterly lost and hidden.
Our garage at the time was full to the gills with an incredible amount of junk; household goods being stored for a brother in the Navy, yard sale treasures, and boxes of still-packed-up-things from when we moved in years earlier.
When I'd step out to the garage through an inside door to get something later in the evening, I would sometimes hear a pitiful mewling. The next half hour or so would be wasted hunting for the little demons. Upon finally locating the kittens, I'd take them outside and throw them up the hill, back to their home turf.
Now, before you call the SPCA on me, let me say a word or two in my own defense.
First, as you may already be aware, cats always land on their feet. It's built into their firmware, a little gift from God that protects them from injury in the day-to-day life of a cat. BTW, I've heard that astronauts have studied and learned from the dynamics of cat-landing, and have been able to apply those motions to maneuvering in a zero-gravity environment.
My second defense against cruelty is this: Because I was throwing the kittens up the hill, the actual distance that they dropped from the top of their arc to their landing place was only a very few feet.
I eventually got in the habit of tying the two kits together with a long piece of telephone wire the minute they would show up. That way, when they got themselves lost in the garage, I could at least find the middle of the wire and reel them back out again!
Fast-forward several months, and both kittens were now full-grown cats. While I didn't see much more of the tan, the tabby kept coming by to visit. For reasons still a blessed mystery, he seemed to have adopted me.
For example, I'd pull into the driveway after work and get out of my car. Our house boasts a very long, covered front porch. As I'd be walking towards the door, tabby cat would come racing past me and then stretch out across the path, blocking my way completely. It was as if he were saying "Where have you been? I've been waiting here for you all day!"
Tabby cat developed a knack for dashing through even the most slightly opened door, into the house, down the hall, into the bedroom, and up onto our bed. There he would lie, like a king on his throne surveying his domain.
He also took to joining us on the sofa while we watched television. There he would make himself at home beside me or on my lap, and occasionally would "let his motor run" as an expression of apparent contentment.
During those years, we hosted a weekly group in our home and we would study the bible together. I recall one of those evenings long ago. Everyone had said their farewells and driven away. Some time later, we noticed a car coming back up our private road and into the driveway.
A knock at the door. "Is this your cat?" Tabby had apparently slipped, unseen, into their car and made it all the way home with them before being discovered!
I believe that it was this innate friendliness and sense of adventure that ultimately led to my tabby's demise. He stopped showing up at our house. Days went by; I'd look and hope for him to appear, but nothing. A week. Two weeks. Sorrow.
My best guess is that my little friend went on an adventure in the woods behind our house. There, he met Mr. Coyote, sidled up to him, and inquired: "Can we be friends?"
Licking his lips, I suspect that Mr. Coyote's reply was "Sure! We'll be the best of friends." And sadly, I'm sure you can imagine the rest of the story.
One who not only became attached to me, but who somehow, mystically, magically captured my attention and then my heart. How could this be?
Since developing that relationship with tabby cat, I have been much more open to other cats - though still, to be honest, a tad cautious!
Believing as I do that tabby cat, as well as myself, are both creatures created by the Maker of the Universe - you may have heard Him referred to as Jesus - my sadness at the loss of my little friend is tempered by hope.
You see, the Hebrew/Christian scriptures teach me that the God who created all animals also has a high regard for them.
The scriptures have also persuaded me that Jesus has literally, personally, singled me out (among many others) and set His love on me. He's promised me that I need never fear death. Why? Because He has bestowed on me a never-ending life.
Like Woody Allen, I want to achieve immortality by not dying. Unlike Allen, I believe that I know what will make that possible.
What does that have to do with my little tabby friend? Well, Jesus-God has said that He will one day soon create New Heavens and a New Earth. Persuaded (as I am) that the One who originally created that little tabby beast truly loves me and has my best interests at heart, I intend (when I see Him) to ask Him to re-constitute tabby cat. I think He will.
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