“Yesterday, during one of
my daily crying spells, I asked my recently deceased son to send me a sign that
he was ok and happy. Just anything that would unmistakably assure me that he is
still with me "in spirit". Today, I got that sign. This is "Spirit"
who strangely enough, my brother had already named him before he came to me
because he found him on Spirit Lake Rd. For me, his name took on a whole new
meaning. My son, also being a rescuer, heard my plea and sent me that sign I
prayed for. Please read it and you'll know the rest of this story.”♡
I have
previously written of having come across several helpless animals during the
course of my ‘wee hours of the morning’ bike and walking treks.
There was
the emaciated pooch, a mini-Doberman, tied to a light post which, as I rode my
bike on a nearby sidewalk, I retrieved, brought home, and ‘farmed out’ to a
no-kill shelter. There was the pitiful little cat, injured and lying next to a
local two lane road. All I could do was call the dog pound and ask an animal
control person to pick it up. And there was the time I ‘happened up’ on another
feral cat, as I walked a two miler during a holiday at Cedar Key. I recall
pausing and stroking his fur, and scratching under his chin, and musing aloud,
“Sorry, little fella. About all I can do is spend a moment with you and offer
you a little comfort.” And with that, I went on my way.
This
morning, as I was about halfway through my walking circuit, I noticed a man who
was about to transect my path. And as is my custom, rather than walk past
someone at ‘O Dark Thirty,’ (and thus ‘take my life in my own hands’) I crossed
the highway which bordered the sidewalk.
And having
crossed this particular thoroughfare, and then another, in order to begin my
trek home, I passed another light pole, (re. my earlier allusion) and lo and
behold I noticed a small kitten sitting on the concrete base of the pole; about
two feet above ground level.
You remember
that old adage about the turtle on the fencepost? Well, (as with the kitten) we
can assume he didn’t get there by himself.
But having
arrived at this juncture, it may be helpful for you to understand that I ALWAYS
include helpless, homeless, hungry feral animals in my daily prayers. Of
course, many of these animals were previously abused, and while some have
gotten loose, many have been dumped along our highways and byways.
Pt. 2
But to
return to my story.
It
immediately occurred to me that, as with the other instances, I was being
called to ‘put feet to my prayers.’
Prayer or no
prayer, I simply could not leave the kitten ‘to its own devices.’ (Though
honestly, I prefer dogs to cats any day). But having scanned the general area,
and assured myself that there wasn’t a mama cat in the vicinity, I picked up
the bony creature, and gently holding it by my side, I quickly walked the
remaining half mile home.
And while I
had no plan, whatsoever, to keep the kitten, I did something which I have so
often done. I mentally assigned a name to the pitiful creature, and I claimed
him for the kingdom.
(Yes, I
did).
His name?
Well, since I discovered the poor little thing on Spirit Lake Road, I decided
to call him, ‘Spirit;’ (a name which will have significant import by the time
this story reaches its certain conclusion).
And, no
doubt, dear readers, by now you are ‘biting at the bit’ for some clarity re. my
having claimed the tiny fur ball for the kingdom.
In Psalm
36:6, we read,
“You preserve both men and animals, alike.”
And it is
upon this particular implication I base my premise.
Are you
familiar with The Rainbow Bridge? The notion that our animals have gone on
before us, and will be waiting for us at the pearly gates? Well, I’m convinced
that as believers can rest assured that we will see our pet pooches and felines
again.
Pt. 3
Having
arrived home, I poured some milk into a paper plate, and set it before little
Spirit. He ignored it. At this point, I dipped a teaspoon into the milk, and
lifted it to his mouth. And with that, Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Spirit had, by
this time, crawled under my dining room table, and refused to move from his
solitary place.
Having
assured myself that ‘Queenie,’ my 15 pound Shih Tzu, was under the supervision
of my wife, Jean, I sat down at my computer, and I.M.’ed my sister.
It may be
helpful to understand that Linda is a night nurse, and that she sits with
chronically ill youngsters in the wee hours of the evening. It might also be
helpful to know that my sister is a cat person, par excellence.
As I
described the scenario by which I had stumbled upon the cat, (and subsequently,
rescued it) she offered something which I had not, ‘til this point,’
considered.
“I think
Tony had something to do with it. I think he led you to the cat.”
And while I
am characterizing things which may be helpful for you to understand, sadly,
Linda’s 35 year old son, Tony, passed away last month.
Tony was,
(as is his mother) a cat rescue person. And speaking of my newly named cat, it
seems more than fitting that, in respect for Tony, I coincidentally chose the
moniker, ‘Spirit’ for the precious little creature. (For it goes without saying
that Tony has gone on to his reward).
And as you
might imagine, as my sister and I interacted, I was on the threshold of asking
Linda if she could ‘see her way clear’ to adopt the furry tyke.
As it fell
together, I didn’t have to ask.
Pt. 4
“Would you
like me to pick up the precious thing on my way home?”
(Dear Readers,
she didn’t have to ask twice).
In a flash,
my nimble fingers typed out that oft-used three letter word.
(Yes)
“Why, Yes.
Yes, I would. I would like that a great deal.”
And to quote
the most bless-ed promise in the Bible,
“And it came
to pass.”
After my
sister arrived home, she and I exchanged several texts. In the couple of hours
which had transpired since she pulled into my driveway, she had visited the
vet, had the kitten wormed, and antibiotics were administered.
And as my
little text tone chimed again (and again), I opened each subsequent message and
initially saw a photo. (Spirit was eating)! And then a brief video. (Spirit was
exploring)!
Sullivan
Ballou, that late great Union officer, once penned the most eloquent letter
ever written in the context of the Civil War. And in it, he alluded to the
proposition that those who have gone on before might have some import, input
and impact into our daily lives here.
“But,
O Sarah! If the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those
they loved, I shall always be near you; in the brightest day and darkest night;
always, always. And when the soft breeze fans your cheek, it shall be my
breath; or the cool air your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing
by.”
Perhaps, as my sister implied, her
dearly departed son had something to do with the circumstances of last night,
the stranger crossing the road, and my need to find a different pathway home.
Need I say, I think maybe Tony is
still in the cat rescue business!
by William McDonald, PhD
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