Thursday, June 11, 2015

My Pip


           
     In the last two years I have lost 6 beloved horses, my father, my friends Samantha and David, and my cat Elliot. But I am completely trashed over my cat Pip. He died in January and I can just not stop crying for him. What makes some so special?

                Pip was so tiny when found; he was about four weeks old. He was unable to clean himself, and though he could eat wet food he was almost helpless. For the next two weeks of his life he lived inside my shirt, right against my heart. I was his mommy.

                I would set him in the sink and gently wash his messy little bum under warm running water. He trusted me completely. I took him with me wherever I went. He loved riding in my truck. He would lay on pillows in the back seat and watch the world go by.

                We lived in a house where he was not safe. The person living there did not take my tiny kitten seriously. Doors were left open and he could have easily been stepped on. So I moved out.

                My brother Jimmy, bless his heart, took us in. There we lived for the rest of my golden kitty’s life.

                On a freezing cold January day, Jimmy thawed a foot of frost from the ground with a space heater and dug my dear cat’s grave. Thank you Jimmy, that is the greatest gift you could ever have given me, I will owe you for eternity.

                So my incredibly precious cat was gone—gone—from my life.

                Sometimes I cry, sometimes I whimper, and too often I scream. Every single day.

                Maybe I am borderline psychotic over his loss. I don’t know, I haven’t felt like this since I was a kid. I have many, many things to live for, but I can truly understand why people kill themselves over the loss of a pet.

                I want to believe that Jesus has to know how this feels. He lived for 30 years as a “common man”.  As a child he has to have had pets that grew old and died. The Bible says he experienced it all and passed every test that the human race must endure. I want to believe, as our King, that he knows how broken my heart is and somehow he will make it right. How could it possibly be any other way?

                So my beautiful cat has a rock on his grave and a white iris that blooms in the snow. That is all I have left to give him. His little body will go back to the Earth.

                I want him back—I just want him with me again. Amen.

1 comments:

Anonymous said...

I am so sorry about your Pip. I understand. I found my Joy in a wood pile with her other litter mates. She was about six weeks when I took her. I've had lots of cats. They are all special and dear in their own way. Joy...well....some thing different that one. Yes, I became mommy and was happy for it. I was the only one she would purr for. My sweet baby had a complete neurological break down at three years old. It's been months and I am still crying. Never loved a cat like I did her. I have a horse who has me wrapped around his hoof for the last 12 years. I can talk to him and he either nods yes or makes some other response. If he doesn't talk it isn't good. It will rip my heart from my chest when he is gone. I told the Lord that my Mansion is to also include a barn attached. I expect to see my friends there. I am told that a soul is mind, will and emotion. My friends have all that and so I fully expect to see them when I go home. God please, soon. No matter how painful it has been to lose some of my friends it is true that it has been better to love and be loved than to never have had any of that at all. The world has gone stark raving mad. I can't hardly stand it. I go to the barn for peace and commune with my horse and the Lord. God bless you and keep in faith.

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