This may be a difficult week: the cats are going to the vet.
My cats are 18+ pounds, hate the carrier and can-and will – inflict serious damage on anyone who tries to put them in a one. Once in, Hunter but won’t get out … or back in. Then, when we get back home, he viciously attacks Zoey. If we separate them (as we must), Hunter cries, frantically licking my neck in apology, but still goes for Zoey when he sees her. It takes many days and much angst and effort before life gets back to normal.
But they are getting old: 12 cat years equals 65 human years. For their good, they must go. So, I gather my supplies: pheromone dispensers, calming drops and Gabapentin.
Gabapentin is a medication that “calms” cats. Zoey only needs it the day of the visit. But Hunter gets medicated for several days so it can build up in his system. Yesterday, he slept on my chest all afternoon like a sick baby. And as I cuddled him, I felt terribly guilty. His distress was my fault.
And wondered, if Hunter knew that, would he blame me, too?
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“When someone we love suffers, we suffer with that person,
and we would not have it otherwise,
because the suffering and the love are one, just as it is with God’s love for us.”
Frederick Buechner, The Hungering Dark
I can’t explain to Hunter what is happening. He would never understand – or approve. But I think he knows that I love him. In the same way, I don’t always understand what God is doing; but I absolutely know that He loves me.
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God nothing does nor suffers [allows] to be done
But thou would’st do thyself
Could’st thou but see
The end of all events as well as He.
The Kneeling Christian
I can see far enough ahead to know what will happen if I don’t give Hunter the medicine. No matter how bad he feels (or I feel), it must be done. God sees farther and better than I do. And I know that His plans are wise and full of love.
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And on this truth, I firmly plant my faith:
My cats and I are in God’s hands. There is no safer place to be.
