Monday, March 24, 2008

Tasha's Gone, Sultana Rules

My daughter accuses me of putting gross pictures on my website but some things must be seen to be believed.

First, a word about the BadCat. Most animals freak out or mourn if they lose a companion pet. Not this girl. She's taken over the house completely, strutting as if she drove the final nail. She does, however, seem to be at loose ends, doing a lot of rolling and meowing, following even me from room to room.

But, if you look at her picture from this morning, there is no question who is now the alpha dog (okay, so she's a cat) in this household.

I was just sitting on the front porch, looking out at our acre of snow as the sun beat down on my shoulders, enjoying a little moment of praise.

BadCat comes up. I ignore her because to greet her is to invite disaster. She rubs against me, purrs, climbs on my lap, sends fear into my marrow as she rubs her face against mine. I venture a pat, then another, and we have a moment of harmony.

She walks away, purring.

I sit, soak in the Spirit, and out of nowhere, she attacks me! She whacks my arms in three rapid-fire blows. Mind you, I'm wearing two long-sleeve shirts, but she gets deep into the skin. The picture cannot do her damage justice because I've got wounds on the other side of my arm, and bruises are beginning to form.

What did I do, other than love her? She has pierced me deeply and without provocation.

The spiritual analogy is too chilling to offer.

I need a dog.

2 comments:

Elsi Dodge said...

Yes, the spiritual analogy is chilling. But I see Sultana's reaction from the viewpoint of a teacher of emotionally disturbed children.

What did you do to Sultana? For a moment, you made her feel safe. It's a frightening world, which is now even more dangerous because her Tasha has vanished without notice. Desperate, she reached out for love and attention, and received it! And this terrifies her ... being vulnerable opens one to all sorts of hurt ... she cannot admit she was so weak ... and she lashed out to prove to herself she is still safe.

I don't know about you, but I do this with the Lord (not to mention other people!) all the time. If I admit to Him how vulnerable and frightened I am, what will He ask of me? So I strike out in fear, claws bared. The stripes He healed me with are claw marks I inflicted on His willing brow and back.

That's a terrifying thought, but it helps me accept the blows and fears of my pets and friends with a better spirit. Only the Lord is truly safe, and much of the time I fail to trust Him, too. Yet He always welcomes me back, in spite of my attacks from my fear.

Bonnie Calhoun said...

Egads...cut her nails!