Touching Tuesday’s

My lovely parents and their sweet little dog left my home yesterday-taking my heart with them. To ease the pain of missing them, I threw myself into cleaning the house, changing the sheets, washing the towels and piling the dog hair into the trashcan.

Although Max had entertained himself by pestering the dog for the last two weeks, I think he was a little torn up to see her go.

He spent most of the afternoon looking for the dog, meowing from room to room. He needed a little reassurance from his best friend, Bianca.

She was more than happy to cuddle up to her best friend, clean his dirty paws and fall asleep purring in his gigantic muscly arms.

It was pretty touching.

A Tale of Two Cats and a Hawk

Once upon a time, there were two leashed white cats innocently hanging out in the backyard, with their owner nearby. A Red Tailed Hawk entered the scene, swooped down and alighted on the chain link fence that separated the neighbor’s yards.

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For a moment the world stood still.

The Red Tailed Hawk was impressive-with an intimidating wingspan of 4-5 feet, razor sharp claws and a scary, pointy beak that can poke kittens eyes out.

At a whopping 13 pounds of pure muscle, this “kitten” would be almost impossible for the aforementioned Red Hawk to lift off the ground.

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However, this bird of prey wouldn’t realize this until after sinking its sharp and pointy talons into a muscle-bound Maxwell. Max’s instincts took over and he peeled out in the grass, aiming for the open back door. His race for safety caused the attached leash to knock over the fire pit and the two bikes on our back porch.

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The Red Hawk took off, disturbed both by me and by the insanity created by Maxwell. The “kitten” ducked inside, his tail had exploding to three times larger than normal and the hair mohawk on his back standing on end. The poor little guy’s body shook all over and his breathing accelerated to a “Rebekah-on-a-roller-coaster-scared” status.

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After further research, I realized there was nothing I could do to keep this bird of prey away. It’s even protected by the government-sorry, Biceps.

I think my only option is to add weighted vests to the kittens halters. If only they came in extra-extra small cat sizes….

Guess who’s back?

I have had so many wonderful emails, facebook messages, texts, etc. sent my way about our little Maxwell being sick. He has had us scared for quite some time. Even the doctors were scared. That’s never a good sign.

His white blood cell count was low and he had a 105 degree temperature (apparently, 101 is the normal temperature for a kitty). He was moaning, panting and dry heaving for days. We had to feed him watered down canned cat food with a syringe and he wasn’t stoked about that process. Nor was he stoked about the process of having his temperature taken.

I have the scratches to prove it.

After a visit to the vet on Saturday, an emergency visit at 2am Monday morning and a 9pm emergency visit that same Monday night, we thought we might lose him. There was absolutely no reason behind what was going on in his tiny, furry body.

We prayed. We pleaded. We asked our friends and family to pray.

My anxiety level rose to an unhealthy level and the Lord reminded me that anxiety is not of God. He brought to mind 1 Peter 5:7 which says, “Cast ALL your cares upon the Lord, for he cares for you.”

I resigned to trust Him, to let go of my control, to understand there was no understanding and to rest in my Savior’s arms.

Maxwell is home, resting. We are believing for a full recovery-he hasn’t been declared “healed” by the doctors, but I declare him healed in Jesus’ name. But even if he isn’t, I will trust in my God. (Daniel 3:17 & 18)

The Laundry Helper

I try to keep cat posts to a minimum. But, like a brand new parent with endless pictures of their infant-that will bore even the grandparents, my iPhone is full of: cute cat poses, cat videos and evidentiary cat pictures of their naughtiness-to “show Biceps later on”.

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It seems as if I might be a crazy cat lady. But, I call it: “Cat Supporter”. There are the few of us cat supporters out there that aren’t recluses and don’t don housecoats 24/7.

If you fall into that category (every pun intended), this is for you.

Stripping the bed has become one of Maxwell’s major playtimes. There is the attack of the sheet as it is being pulled from each corner by me.

 

Then, there is the burrowing underneath if I happen to leave for a moment.

 

And finally, the ultimate cute stare down that I cannot resist. And so, I leave him there to enjoy himself a minute longer while I find something else to do.

I suppose that is a little crazy. At least I took off my housecoat hours ago.