ANNIE, THE CAT'S MEOW

I first met Annie back in February 2004 after Milan told me to let him know what I wanted for for Valentine’s Day and he promised would get it for me no matter what it was. He has often joked that he should have have put some conditions on that. But he didn’t, and so I headed straight to the Humane Society animal shelter.

It had been two long years since we had put our beloved Maine Coon cat to sleep, a big pile of what appeared to be nothing but fur, but had a huge heart hidden inside. We had named him Ollie in honor of Col. Oliver North who was our news hero at the time.

I entered the cat compound at the Humane Society. There were only two cats inside, a brown tabby who ran to the other side of the pen away from me, and a little black and white girl who came running over to me and when I picked her up, she snuggled her head under my chin and began to purr. It was love at first sight.

She was new there and they had not given her a name so I called her Annie. She was always smaller than the average cat, even when full grown, so we dubbed her Little Annie.

We knew she must have had a home somewhere before she came to the shelter because she was very loving, and appeared to have been well cared for. Even more telling,we were not able to get her to drink any water until she jumped up on Milan’s bathroom sink one day when the water was running, put her head directly under the faucet and began to drink. It was clear this was not a new experience for her.

We were told by our veterinarian two years ago when our other cat died at a very young age that Annie was probably a carrier for the feline kidney disease that killed him, and it would possibly cause her death when she became older.

And so it was that we knew the time had come these past few weeks as her behaviour changed and her litter box habits were affected.

We took her to the vet this week who confirmed there was nothing more she could do for Annie, and so once again we said good-bye to a precious famiy member.

The protective cloths spread over the sofa and chairs are now gone. The litter boxes and feeding dishes are gone. The tall climbing tower in front of my office windows is gone. But so is the soul of our house. I wonder if I will remember to open the blinds on the sunny side of my office as soon as I get up without her jumping up on her tower seat and scolding me for not opening them before I sat down.

I know not everyone will understand how an animal can mean so much to those of us who dote on them. In this world there are two kinds of people - those who have house pets and those who have sparkling clean houses all the time.

As a pastor I was often asked, especially by children, if their dog or cat would go to heaven when they died. Theologically, I never knew what to say and I really doubt that you know either. But if heaven is a perfect place of complete happiness and contentment, and we believe that it is, then it is not unreasonable to think our beloved animals will greet us there.

Rest in peace, sweet Little Annie. I will miss you most of all this winter as I remember how we would curl up together under the electric blanket for Sunday afternoon naps, and you would lay your paw on top of the control so I couldn’t turn it off. You were really the “cat’s meow” when it came to feline intelligence. You taught us all there is no such thing as a dumb animal.

Passion

“Better pass boldly into that other world, in the full glory of some passion, than fade and wither dismally with age”.. (James Joyce) I’ve often been accused of being too passionate, of caring too much about certain things. But I believe that passion, also defined as fervor or zeal, is one of the essential core values of human life, along with the Apostle Paul’s Biblical list of the virtues of faith, hope and charity. Passionate people have strong opinions and usually articulate them very well. We are also perfectionists, and we don’t handle incompetence in the public arena very well, all of which tend to preclude us from being the most popular person in the room. I long ago accepted the fact that I won’t have the largest funeral in Lebanon, nor will my obituary make the front page. But not everyone seems to care that much about anything other than their own lives. T.S. Eliot once said, “It is obvious that we can no more explain pas...

A RIVER RUNS THROUGH IT

Years ago, there was a movie called “A River Runs Through It” based on a novel by Norman Maclean. I didn’t see the movie, but the title has been running through my head for several days now. The Rio Grande is just one of hundreds of rivers that runs through this great North American continent. More than 60,000 illegal immigrants have crossed the Mexican border in the past nine months, many of them using the Rio Grande as their point of entrance. Louie Gohmert, a Texas Congressman describes his recent trip to the river during the pre-dawn hours. He saw pregnant women and those with nursing infants and small children, and many teenagers, 72 people in all that morning and a third of them were children unaccompanied by adults. Border agents pulled on blue latex gloves when they saw them arriving. One told the Congressman that many of them have scabies, lice and even more serious infectious diseases that probably won’t be noticed until after they have traveled with others on buse...

LIQUID PRAYERS

I'm often asked why Tears fall from my eyes When my prayers ascend to the throne; It's so easy for me To shed tears, don't you see; That's the way I make my needs known. For the tears that I shed In the prayers that I've said Have all been kept by Him In a bottle rare; He has placed them there He has never forgotten them. For every tear Is a liquid prayer That waters the seed that we sow. Through the good times and bad Whether happy or sad The tears help our prayers to flow. Feel a tug in your heart? Then let the tears start When you take to God all your cares. He knows what you need; He hears when you plead; For tears are just liquid prayers. Written by Joan Rowden Hart 12.17.01, based on Psalm 56:8, “Thou tellest my wanderings; put thou my tears into thy bottle; are they not in thy book?” This poem was inspired by my dear friend, Betty Shanks of Farmington , Mo , who coined the phrase “liquid prayers” after I had preached a sermon ...

Straight From The Hart

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