"Cat"

 

My dad is convinced that he speaks, “cat.”

He says that he understands what the cats want

And that the cats tell him what they need.

In all actuality, the cats simply want food and

Know that he’ll give it to them.

As a result, he hasn’t trained them,

Rather they have trained him,

And they keep him up at all hours of the night,

Demanding to go in or go out,

Begging for dry food or turkey.

 

I tell him to ignore their demands,

But he swears that they will just swat at him and get mad.

He said that Annie Mae got mad on Sunday morning,

Hit the chair,

And then stomped off for hour.

She may have,

But she was better by Sunday afternoon,

When she told me

(Yes, I speak, “cat,” too)

That she wanted to take a nap.

I obliged,

And she did what she always does

When she’s being affectionate:

Hopped onto her spot,

Made biscuits,

Turned around,

And laid down right next to my leg.

 

Annie Mae is not an overly affectionate cat.

But when she wants pets,

She lets us know.

And when she wants to nap,

She curls up beside me,

Always touching some part of my body,

But never laying on me outright,

Because that would be too much love.

 

In so many ways, people are like cats.

We tend to be the center of our own universe.

We communicate what we want both passively and aggressively and

We hope that someone listens.

We’re opinionated and prickly at times,

But even then,

We want someone with whom

We can be ourselves,

Rest, and

And feel safe, warm, and secure.

 

I hope that each of us can know and experience

Even a fraction of the love and

Life of comfort that

Annie Mae has come to live.

From thrown away teenage mother to

Queen of the House,

She is teaching me about

Adoption, redemption, and love…

All in her language of “cat.”

Cowering in Fear

Don’t let her fool you. 

Annie is not a sweet cat. 

By all outward appearances, she appears sweet. 

She’s pretty and fluffy and soft and plump.

She even has moments where she’s very loving and 

Requests attention.

But in her nature is an attack cat.

I think her early days as a single, street mom were all about survival 

And I don’t think that three years of being the queen of the household has taken that out of her. 

 

On Sunday morning, I heard a skirmish. 

I knew it was the cats. 

Then I heard a bang. 

I knew that one of them had knocked something down.

I fell back asleep. 

When I got up, I noticed that the laundry basket was lying on the floor in the bathroom.

I remembered the earlier noises

At the same moment that I noticed a tail sticking out from behind the bathroom door.

Sigma was hiding behind the bathroom door, 

Cowering in fear.

 

I put the pieces together. 

Annie had chased Sigma upstairs. 

Sigma had tried to climb the laundry basket to get away from his attacker. 

The laundry basket had fallen and scared both cats. 

Sigma hid behind the bathroom door while Annie nonchalantly went and sat at the top of the stairs, 

Taking her place of authority 

And viewing her queendom. 

 

Feeling more secure with me in the room,

Sigma came out from behind the door and explored the bathroom.

A few moments later, I picked him up and carried him past Annie

So that he could be free from Annie’s jail.

 

I think sometimes we assume that people are nice, or doing okay,

Because outward appearances show us as much.

But, like Annie, insides are scarred by wounds,

Or simply a nature,

We just don’t see…

Until they say explode,

Fall apart,

Say something mean,

Or attack,

Literally or figuratively,

And leave us wondering what just happened.

 

I don’t want to be someone who doubts the authenticity of everyone and everything I see,

But I also don’t want to be someone who forgets that people and situations aren’t always as they appear.

 

I want to be someone who sees people for all of who they are—

Even when it’s hard—

And who knows how to respond to what I see.  

 

Sometimes with a love that stays—

Like my love for Annie.

Sometimes with a love that walks away.

Sometimes with a love that reports to DSS or CPS.

Sometimes with a love that fights back.

Sometimes with a love that goes to therapy.

Sometimes with a love that prays.

Sometimes with a love that harbors the refugee.

Sometimes with a love that sets one free,

Like I did with Sigma.

Sometimes with a love that chooses to put disbelief aside

And allows uncomfortable reality to settle in and

Grief to begin.

Sometimes with a love that simply cries.

 

Oh God: Give us the wisdom and discernment to know and love others for all of who they are…even if there are parts unseen…especially if there are parts unseen. Amen.

Cats

 My cats are weird.

(I think all cats might be weird.)

And they have such different personalities.

 

Annie Mae is spicy and aloof.

Sigma Ray is docile and loving.

 

Annie Mae will only eat turkey directly from my hand.

Sigma Ray will only eat turkey off the floor.

 

Annie Mae will only drink water from her personalized water bowl upstairs.

Sigma Ray will drink water from anywhere, including my dad’s cups.

 

Annie Mae will only eat cat food if it’s been freshly poured into her bowl.

Sigma Ray will eat cat food anytime it’s available.

 

Annie Mae refuses to let you touch her pretty, fluffy belly.

Sigma Ray doesn’t care if you touch his belly, his nose, or his tail.

 

Annie Mae stirs if you come upon her sleeping.

Sigma Ray sleeps hard and long and just keeps right on sleeping if you come upon him.

 

Annie Mae likes boxes.

Sigma Ray doesn’t know what to do with them.

 

Annie Mae likes to hunt.

Sigma Ray is a lover, not a fighter.

 

Annie Mae is calm and content with the ground.

Sigma Ray is spastic and curious and climbs all over everything.

 

Annie Mae knows her name.

Sigma Ray does not.

 

Annie Mae will sometimes respond when I say “comeeer, baby.”

Sigma Ray just looks at me like I have a hole in my head.

 

Annie Mae is a secret purrer.

Sigma Ray purrs very loudly and makes no secret about when he’s happy. 

 

Annie Mae has sort of figured out my schedule.

Sigma Ray has not.

 

Every day, when I come home from work,

Annie expects me to come upstairs

So she can sit beside me

While I do my blackout poem.

If I don’t immediately do this,

Then it throws her off, and

She acts out of sorts until I do.

I think this is funny.

But it warms my heart.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

My cats are weird.

And I bet yours are too.

Or your dogs.

Or your bearded dragons.

Or your hamsters or ferrets or snakes or cows or any other pets that you have.

 

Pets are some of life’s greatest blessings.

Amen?

And amen.

 

Hissing Resistance

 

Queen Antoinette, otherwise known as Annie the Cat,

Is having a hard time sharing her throne with her adopted brother, Sigma Ray.

 

Annie Mae has been an only cat child for around two years.

She has had full reign of both inside and outside the house,

Securing favorite sleeping spots in every room and

Granting herself access to every point of entrance and exit.

She has had a personal Butler in my dad,

Who feeds her whenever she demands it,

Which is why she’s quite robust,

And part of why she is struggling to welcome a creature who is vying for her food.

 

I know that feeding an animal is a sure-fire way to make the animal your own,

Whether you want the animal or not.

But as soon as I saw Sigma,

Tiny and starving,

I knew I had to give him food.

I couldn’t let him suffer.

And he was suffering,

Unbeknownst to us at the time,

With two broken back legs in addition to an empty belly.

But even in his suffering, Sigma was the sweetest boy,

Rubbing against my legs,

Letting me hold him,

Purring louder than all of Annie’s purrs put together,

And being genuinely happy to be around people.

He even let my dad hold him,

Which secured his place in our household,

And allowed him to gain three pounds in two months :-p.

 

Yet Annie is struggling,

And she’s expressing her displeasure with Sigma’s presence and

Trying to establish her dominance over Sigma

By hissing vehemently at him whenever she sees him.

Thankfully, Sigma doesn’t fight back,

Rather he returns to his place as her subordinate.

And he loves her.

Wherever Annie is, he wants to be.

Yet she can’t be bothered.

She has a throne to protect.

 

I imagine that most of us feel like Annie sometimes.

Unhappy with the situation around us,

Unable to change it,

Resisting it,

Sometimes hissing at it (though probably silently),

But realizing that our resistance is futile because change is happening

Whether we like it or not.

 

I’m hoping that time will land the Queen and her subordinate as peaceful cohabitants in Annie’s Queen-dom.

Until then, I will keep loving her because she’s my baby,

But I will love him, too,

Because he’s the sweetest boy in all the land.

 

Amen.

Animal Rescue Videos

 

I can’t decide whether animal rescue videos are good or bad for me.

Sometimes, they make me feel warm and fuzzy.

Other times, they make me sob uncontrollably.

Sometimes, I watch with calm anticipation.

Other times, I watch with agitated worry.

 

In one particular video,

A woman dumps her dog out of the car,

Which, unfortunately, is a common practice.

But instead of leaving the dog,

She goes a short distance away and films what the dog does in response.

He runs back and forth, frantically looking for his owner,

Getting more and more frenzied as he can’t find her.

Here is this dog who knows nothing but being taken care of by his owner,

Left in the middle of nowhere,

With no warning, explanation, or understanding,

Scared, and

Alone.

Thankfully, because the video is meant to be educational,

The dog is reunited with his owner in the end.

But how many animals aren’t?

And how many animals suffer because of the abandonment?

 

So that’s a video that makes me weep.

I actually talked about it in therapy to understand why it was so emotional for me—

Blindsides, cut offs, broken trust, and feeling scared and alone were a few themes that emerged.

 

But then there are those who make me smile…

 

Like the one where a very pregnant stray dog has 15 puppies and they’re each labeled with a different colored collar to keep them straight and they all find forever homes,

Or the one where a dog with disabilities gets a wheelchair,

Or the one where a stray dog goes to the groomer and comes out looking like a different dog all together,

Or the one where a kitten is rescued and grows up to be a champion biscuit maker and cuddler,

Or the one where an eel is relieved of three hooks stuck in its mouth,

Or the one where a black goldfish is rescued from a sickly tank and transforms into a happy orange fish,

Or the one where a wayward sheep is shorn and is released from an 80 pound burden.

I actually really like the wayward sheep videos because the sheep are so trusting of the people who help them.

They’re flipped over and turned around and worked on for a long time because their wool is so matted and full of dirt and sticks,

Yet underneath the outer coat of filth,

They are beautifully soft and white.

 

There’s a lesson in there on that one.

I’ll let you figure it out.

 

So yeh.

I can’t determine whether animal rescue videos are good or bad for me.

I blame Facebook for putting them in my algorithm.

And I blame Annie the Cat for being a real-life rescue story that has caused me to put all kinds of human emotions on animals!

 

God: Thank you for animals. And help us, God, to take care of them. Forgive us when we neglect your creation and abandon your creatures, and help us, as a whole, to be more responsible stewards and to do better. Amen.

Annie Mae Deaton

 Annie Mae Deaton is a spoiled cat. She came to us two years ago as a stray, teenage mama cat who was barely surviving. For some reason, she chose us, and our lives have not been the same since!

 

When she was a starving mom, Annie would eat anything placed in front of her. We fed her wet food and dry food and plates of turkey. Now, as a spoiled house cat who has full reign of the house, she eats only dry food and one piece of turkey a day—IF I hand-feed it to her! If dad tries to feed her turkey, she will not eat it. If I place the turkey on her food mat or accidentally drop a piece on the floor, then she won’t eat it. She will only eat it out of my hand. If I’m running late in the morning, oh, well! Annie must get her turkey :-).

 

While some cats have one favorite place to sleep, Annie can be found sleeping in numerous places around the house. In fact, she has at least one spot in every room where she likes to sleep— and it’s usually near the air conditioning vent :-).

 

On Friday night, as Heidi-My-Tin-Art-Partner and I were working in the studio, I stood up for one brief moment to get a different perspective on my piece. In that one moment, Annie hopped into my office chair and put herself to sleep for 45 minutes. I worked standing up 🤦🏻‍♀️. I know. I could have bravely moved her and sat back down, but I just didn’t have it in me because she looked so content.

 

I wish that I could say that Annie is a loving and snuggly cat, but I can’t. Her life on the streets left her very skittish. She is also a tortie, and I’ve heard that torties have tortitude :-). But when she wants to, she lets us pet her. And she likes it. Then, when she’s tired of being touched, she turns around and whacks the hand that loves her. And, don’t even think about trying to pet her pretty, fluffy belly. That is a no go!

 

…

 

I won’t let Annie go into the attic because she heads straight for the insulation and all the little crevices where she could get stuck. One night a few weeks ago, Heidi went into the attic to get some tin. Annie came out of nowhere and planted herself at the attic door. Heidi could not get out without Annie going in, and so I told Heidi to turn on the vacuum cleaner because it would scare Annie away. Sure enough, as soon as the vacuum cleaner came on, Annie ran away from the door and Heidi safely emerged from the hot attic. I did not want to use Annie’s nemesis against her, but I had to do it for her own good.

 

This is what love does, you know. It looks out for the good of the one who is loved while also, at times, maybe at a lot of times, spoiling the object of our affection to no end.

 

We love our Queen Antoinette (Annie) Mae Deaton. Unconditionally. I know that many of you love your pets unconditionally, too.

 

So friends: If we love our pets as much as we do, even when they are prickly and undeserving, then how much more must God love us?

 

God hand-feeds us in ways that we do not recognize. Every day. May we return God’s love like Annie returns mine when she hops into bed with me and curls up next to me and makes me stupidly happy in a way that I cannot describe.

 

Amen.