Growing up, I recall discussions about how it was impossible
for animals to go to heaven, being that they don't have a
spirit. How could they have one, being that they don't talk and,
thus, can't understand or communicate with God? Or, at least,
that was the winning argument.
Though, I've wondered, more and more, how that it would be
possible for them not to have a spirit, after having our current
cat; Whiskers. We've never had one like him before.
When we snap our fingers, in disapproval, Whiskers wines. When
he wants to do something that he isn't suppose to do, he'll wine
as if we've scolded him already. Knowing he'll get into trouble
for doing it, Whiskers proceeds to do the thing he isn't suppose
to, anyway ... fully anticipating that we'll immediately tell
him to stop, for which he reluctantly does; perhaps also testing
to see if we care enough to respond.
In every way, Whiskers appears to have the feelings and
understanding of a toddler. He even talks back to us when he
doesn't like the rules. Others have said they've never heard a
cat make sounds like he does, sort of like how a baby's cry has
different meanings.
When our hands are full and we need to open a door, Whiskers
will reach for the doorknob and attempt to open it for us. He
has the gift of helps! When he wants us to open a door for him,
he'll do the same. "Ask and ye shall receive."
With the aroma of cooking, Whiskers will run to the kitchen.
Much like we did as children, he's prepared to rinse the pots
and bowls by licking the tasty residue. (Being in the age of
dishwashers, germs aren't a problem.)
At meal time, Whiskers will select a chair around the kitchen
table, just like any other member of the family; patiently
awaiting (most of the time) scraps. (Just don't leave your plate
until you're finished eating.)
Like children might sneak cookies, the evidence later to be
revealed, we discover pieces of food Whiskers has snitched, then
hid to eat. It isn't a good idea to leave white powdered donuts
out, even with the box lid closed. That's one of his all-time
favorites.
Whenever we leave the house, Whiskers watches out the window,
anticipating our return … missing us, I'm sure. Upon arrival and
before we get to an entry, he has already scurried there to
greet us.
It really isn't all that different from picking up your toddler
from the baby-sitter, how they run to the door, "Mommy!" If
Whiskers hasn't greeted us, we know to check to see if he's
gotten sick or closed in a closet.
Surely, animals must care intensely, being that they take on
the family health problems.
Also, each member of the family has a different place in his
heart. Whiskers responds to the one who feeds him as if they
were his mother and that is, also, the person he cries to when
the bowl is empty.
To his playmate, Whiskers jumps on them, attacks, and does all
sorts of silly things. His personality is so entertaining. Much
like a Sanguine, he's sure to bring a smile.
To another, he is so romantic that everyone in the house is
drawn to watch him. He'll love on you as if you're the most
precious person this side of heaven.
The unconditional love one gets from Whiskers is as
heartwarming as any toddler. If you're in tune to listen to his
heart, more joyous than his purr, you'll know he knows 'love'
... and God is love.
These are just a few of the things leading me to think Whiskers
almost has to be part human.
Then, when the subject of animals came up, around my
12-year-old niece, I overheard her say, "Well, of course animals
go to heaven! Everything God created will be in heaven!" Like,
duh.
All the world will cry out that there is a God. Oh, the wisdom
of a child!
Maybe God blessed us with Whiskers so I would ponder such
things and be able to offer assurance to those who've lost pets,
as, now, I know ... when our beloved pet dies, we will see them
again.
© 2002 by Joyce C. Lock
http://my.homewithgod.com/blessingsandlessons/ This writing may
be used in its entirety, with credits in tact, for non-profit
ministering purposes.
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