And then there were eight
Amidst my raging, all in a tone of humor to the uninformed reader, our cat population has diminished by one. Tubby, the reluctant patriarch, is gone. He had been sick for several weeks, losing weight and refusing food. I could tell he was ill simply because he refused to move from Seth's bed for days at a time. After disappearing for about a week, we figured he went somewhere to die but to our surprise, turned up over the weekend, but with no change. Perhaps leaving without saying goodbye would have been easier, but certainly not a comfort that only a cat-owner knows when he puts one of his beasts down. I've done this several times and despite the tone of this blog, it was never easy.
Almost 11 years ago, Tubby, along with the rest of his litter, had been hand-fed by Michelle when their mother was mauled, they being only 3 weeks old at the time. As the kittens were given away, and a few ran away, Tubby became Michelle's cat by virtue of the fact she really had literally raised him, the mother instinct co-mingled with the owner mentality. Joyous when the animal healthy and obnoxious, and grievous when lost and gone. There is no resurrection for the animal world, something that only God's image bearer is deigned to have, and that only glorious for the elect. Such is the kind of grace bestowed on man alone. Yet the memory of these animals belongs to us, part and parcel of this fallen world, a reminder I think of two things.
First off, it is Adam's sin (and ours by default) that brought death into the world. If we would rage against death, we must rage at our own sinfulness, humbly acknowledging that the world can be a sad place only because of us. But second and more importantly, as we condescend to raise and maintain these beasts (Scripture says the righteous man takes care of his animals), we must remember the grace that God has bestowed on us, especially in the work and person of Jesus, who died to redeem us from sin and death. If God can condescend to a fragile and lost creature such as man, surely we can pity and care for the animals, whom were cursed on account of us through no fault of their own. Where no such empathy exists, do we understand grace at all?
I say this by way of explanation; Tubby is gone. He has no soul, no memory and his body, which will be buried under the fern in the front flower bed, will return to the earth. He will not remember me, but I will remember him. I think he would have liked that idea, which is why he came home to die and not under some stranger's porch.
Farewell, my old friend.
Almost 11 years ago, Tubby, along with the rest of his litter, had been hand-fed by Michelle when their mother was mauled, they being only 3 weeks old at the time. As the kittens were given away, and a few ran away, Tubby became Michelle's cat by virtue of the fact she really had literally raised him, the mother instinct co-mingled with the owner mentality. Joyous when the animal healthy and obnoxious, and grievous when lost and gone. There is no resurrection for the animal world, something that only God's image bearer is deigned to have, and that only glorious for the elect. Such is the kind of grace bestowed on man alone. Yet the memory of these animals belongs to us, part and parcel of this fallen world, a reminder I think of two things.
First off, it is Adam's sin (and ours by default) that brought death into the world. If we would rage against death, we must rage at our own sinfulness, humbly acknowledging that the world can be a sad place only because of us. But second and more importantly, as we condescend to raise and maintain these beasts (Scripture says the righteous man takes care of his animals), we must remember the grace that God has bestowed on us, especially in the work and person of Jesus, who died to redeem us from sin and death. If God can condescend to a fragile and lost creature such as man, surely we can pity and care for the animals, whom were cursed on account of us through no fault of their own. Where no such empathy exists, do we understand grace at all?
I say this by way of explanation; Tubby is gone. He has no soul, no memory and his body, which will be buried under the fern in the front flower bed, will return to the earth. He will not remember me, but I will remember him. I think he would have liked that idea, which is why he came home to die and not under some stranger's porch.
Farewell, my old friend.
posted by makarios at 3:51 PM
1 Comments:
all cat owners should know just what you mean. there's a point where i really don't like my cats and talk about getting rid of them and what a pain they are, but when push comes to shove, i just couldn't do it. "two-bye" was a great cat (my personal favorite - the only one out of the original three left).....i'm so sorry that he had to be put down, but it obviously sounded like the best thing for him.
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