In the Book of Job it is written:
…“Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return. The LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD.” ESV Job 1:21
Now anyone who knows me will be quick to point out that I do not have the patience of Job. Perhaps I have the patience of Attilla the Hun, but not Job. Neither have my trials tested my will, my faith and my spirit as those faced by Job.
But like all who have walked the face of this earth, I have experienced joy and sadness. Sometimes from the most unexpected places. That is what this post is about.
This photo is my pal Boxcar. I didn’t give him that name, so don’t ask what it means. Many years ago, my son CJ returned home for a while and he had this tom cat. I have never hated a cat so much in my life. He hadn’t been “fixed” and he was spraying everything and everywhere. I quickly arranged a trip to the vet and gladly paid to modify his anatomy. The spraying ceased but his rambunctiousness did not.
Within months CJ longed for more city life and he packed his bags and moved to NYC, leaving me with this tom cat with a crooked tail. We have had house cats for 25 years but this guy was different. One day I picked up on it, he was like a dog in a cat suit. He liked roughhousing like a dog does. But when he retaliated, it was fast like a cat. I would poke at him and harrass him and think I won the bout only to turn to walk away and find him firmly latched on my leg, with four sets of claws planted deeply in my jeans and flesh as he sunk his teeth in my thigh. Then he would run away like a bold of lightning like he was mocking me. Severals time he leaped so high he planted himself on my back and chomped by shoulders.
Boxcar could get into everything, so we tried all kinds of ingenious ways to keep him in, or out of certain areas of the house; all to no avail. He loved to lay on my laptop keyboard, while I was typing. He loved to open kitchen cabinets. He loved to leap onto the kitchen counters while we prepared meals. He loved to sleep in my laundry. He loved to climb up on my chest and purr while I napped on winter afternoons in my big easy chair.
He raced me up the stairs, he slept with me almost every night, he always knew what time it was. It was time to eat. And he was the most photogenic cat I’ve ever had. I have hundreds of impromptu photos of him, sleeping in my guitar case, sleeping in a casserole dish, in a wooden bowl, drinking out of a bidet, looking out the window. He always amused me, he annoyed me, he loved me. He was my buddy.
He ruled the roost with his high-energy antics for 13 or 14 years. He never let up, full speed ahead; until two weeks ago. Last night I had to put him down. The tom cat I once despised has gone and left our house very empty. Every good and perfect thing comes from above.