Animals and Eschatology

We have an Animal Blessing Service at my church this Sunday afternoon.  We always begin out on the front lawn with songs and prayer, and at the end, we process into the chapel, where the animals are each blessed individually.

We would't have to bring the animals indoors.  My husband's church has an animal blessing service at around the same time of year, and the whole service is held at the front entry to the church.  They have horses, so I suppose I can see their point.  But there's something I really like about looking out over my congregation of people, and assorted dogs, cats, gerbils and canaries (and sometimes, a goat).  I'm glad that we bring the animals indoors.  It doesn't seem right to have animals in the pews with people, and yet, it does.

There's another part of me that secretly wonders why I love the Blessing of the Animals so much, if it isn't a flaw in me of some sort, a soft sentimentality.  Instead of putting my hand on the head of a Golden Retriever, maybe I should be Ending Poverty, or Racism, or doing something much more Important, something that will bring the Reign of God just a few inches closer.  In the scheme of things, blessing the animals on Sunday afternoon is not that important.  It's not up there with funerals and weddings, it's not as important as feeding the hungry or standing up for those who have been ground into the dust.

And yet, in its own small way, there's something going on here that is important.  Some people use their  Animals Blessing Service to highlight larger concerns:  the important Christian vocation of caring for creation, for one thing.  Protecting the vulnerable includes the vulnerable animals who live with us and around us.  

But the people who come to our front lawn on Sunday afternoon:  they aren't there just because they believe in caring for God's beautiful and vulnerable creation.  They may believe in all that, but they are there because they love the creatures they live with, sometimes beyond all reason.  They love them, and  and in this relationship they catch a glimpse of the grace of God for all creatures, and in this relationship they catch a glimpse of the world to come.

This isn't about "finding God in the beauty of nature"; we're about as likely to find cruelty as beauty in nature.  But it is about glimpses -- glimpses of the future that we sometimes get, glimpses of a future where the lion will lie down with the lamb, where tears and pain and death will be no more, where people and animals and friends and enemies will finally live in peace, where everyone will have enough.

That is the future that God desires, and that is the future that God is bringing to being, and that is the end that we walk toward in the way we treat each other now.

And every once in awhile we catch a glimpse of it.  When enemies forgive each other.  When health is restored.  And animals and people sing God's praise together in the sanctuary.

Feel Good Picture of the Day

Doesn't this look cozy? One of the benefits of being a pastor is getting pictures of your parishoner's "kids."

When we first adopted Scout, this woman was so excited! They had an elderly dog, and just adored and doted on him. When their dog died, they adopted the golden retriever and the kitty.

Kind of gives me hope, somehow. "The lion shall lie down with the lamb...."

by the way, the picture is cross-posted over at Scout's, as well.

UPDATE: Please pray for this dog, who is having surgery today. Thank you.

The kitty

The truth is, we haven't seen the kitty for a long time. I kept hoping she would stick around. I didn't want to admit it, but I kind of wanted the problem of another mouth to feed, and another warm fuzzy creature to worry about. But she stopped hanging out in our garage and meowing not long after I wrote about her.

Either she was adoped by another family, or she got into some trouble. Of course, I hope it was the former. She seemed like a cat with some fine qualities, even though she was not interested in making friends with Scout.

It took a long time before Scout stopped peeking into the garage every time we walked by. I think she really wanted to have a little sister. Although I could be mistaken. She might have been merely interested in a little Snack.

As some of you know, I am a reformed cat person. I had a cat for eighteen years, and after a pretty wild and crazy kittenhood, she turned out to be the kind of cat who loved to sit in my lap while I would read a book. You have to love that in an animal.

Scout is not as big into reading, but she does keep me walking. For that I am grateful. She is much more time-consuming (read: high maintenance), but that means that I am much more attached to her than I ever thought I would be.

A family in my parish got a black lab last year. The mom said to me recently: I never thought that it was possible to love an animal this much.

Personally, I think loving an animal this much is good for us, if sometimes painful.

Even a little kitty who was only around for a couple of weeks.

Meow

Thursday evening while we were walking down the driveway with Scout, we heard a meowing that seemed like it was coming from inside our hedge. But we couldn't see a cat anywhere. It was dusk, and of course Scout was in favor of doing an all-out search, but we were not so sure. We knew there had been a little cat wandering around the neighborhood lately. We looked around the hedge a little and forgot about it.

The next morning when Scout and I went for our walk, we heard the meowing again. It was louder. But I still couldn't see a cat anywhere. The meowing seemed to be coming (again) from inside the hedge. When we went inside, I could still hear the meowing from the kitchen.

I thought -- something must be wrong. Maybe the little cat is injured. Otherwise, why would she stay in the same place and meow all night? so -- I called animal control. They said they didn't have anyone on yet, but they'd be out later.

Then, I decided to take one more look, on our neighbor's side of the hedge. I rooted around and found a flashlight. There, on the other side of our hedge, was a cage, something like a dog kennel -- and the little cat was inside, meowing like crazy. I wasn't sure what the explanation of that could be. I know my next-door neighbors, and I can assure you, they are not into any kind of animal torture.

I called animal control back and cancelled the order. Sometime later, I called our neighbors, and left a message about the kitty. Something on the order of "surely there must be some explanation."

In the evening I got a call back.

It was a raccoon trap, and our neighborhood kitty got stuck in it.

Don't worry, all you cat lovers, she was not hurt.

But it seems that raccoons are a real problem in our neighborhood. My neighbor said she had been scared one evening when she came home late and found about eight of them in her front-yard tree, shaking the branches. This is possibly what makes Scout suddenly start barking at the front window sometimes.

I said, It seems like "The Birds", only with raccoons, and my neighbor did not disagree.

In the meantime, the kitty is still around. My neighbor said that she thinks the cat eats some of the food neighbors put out for the deer. We do not feed the deer, or the cat. But, she lives in our garage. She seems very comfortable in there.

Today, I got some pictures of her: in the garage and out on the driveway. It's pretty clear that, though Scout is very interested in her, she is not interested in Scout.

However, she does seem to like us. When I was trying to take her pictures, I would kneel down, and she would run up to me and rub up against my pant legs.

Tonight, she was sitting on our back steps. And she followed my husband and dog on their nightly walk.

Pictures will follow.

In the meantime, what do we do about this cat?

About Cats

This post is dedicated to Barb, cat lover and one of my first blog friends.

I've been looking through old journals, photo albums and miscellaneous lately, uprooting and disturbing dust, and I came across a little poem I can't believe I wrote a long time ago.

though the cat is by nature

the most graceful of beasts

there comes a rare moment

she's not light on her feet

when she falls in the toilet

leaps and misses the chair

miscalculates distance

as she flies through the air

I don't laugh out loudly

I pretend not to see

it's just a little secret

between the cat and me.

The picture is an old one of my cat, Kiki, who died two years ago, at the age of 18.

From Cats to Dogs

I have always considered myself to be a Cat Person. There was always a new batch of kittens on my grandparents farm when I would go to visit them in the summer. I loved to try to catch the kitties on the farm and dress them up ins doll nightgown and take them around in a doll carriage. Then I would eventually have the sublime experience of watching a fully-dressed cat leap out of the carriage and race into the woods. (I never saw the nightdress again.)

We had a cat named Fluffy when I was growing up. (Creative, huh?) She loved my mother best of all, liked just a little bit of raw hamburger occasionally and, once in a while, did a little walk across the piano keys. We called it "the kitty waltz." I got "Kiki" (on the left) when I was ready to be on my own. She kept me company for many years, and in many situations. When I lived alone in south Minneapolis in an efficiency apartment, Kiki waited for me to come home, sometimes unrolling a roll toilet paper in my absence. (Once she also unrolled a typewriter ribbon -- back in typewriter ribbon days.) She used to jump on my bed early on Saturday morning with a little ball in her mouth. When I threw the ball to get her off the bed, she went and got it for me. Yes, she fetched. But she would never take a walk with me. I tried.

I always knew I was a Cat person. I love those bags that say "Cats. Books. Life is Good". I love the sensual pleasure of a cat curled up in my lap. I love to watch cats get into a paper bag, or how they sit right on top of the Sunday newspaper that you have spread out, and are reading. Cats are good companions for non-athletic, sedentary, deep thinkers like me. I love to try to read their minds (which I can't). Besides, dogs were too much work, I knew.

So how did I end up with this amazing creature, Scout the wonder dog? It all started with a regular visit to Redeemer Residence on 31st and Lyndale. After riding the elevator up to the 3rd floor, I practically tripped over a box of 2-week old golden retriever puppies. At least that's what they looked like. Their mother was a golden retriever. She was running around the third floor, where apparently they had all taken up temporary residence. I spent the entire visit with a puppy in my lap. So did the woman I was visiting. It was very therapeutic.

I was tempted. I have a high level of frustrated maternal instinct. I want to take care of something. And I can't get another cat. My husband and one of his sons is allergic. But the puppies were all taken. This was probably a good thing. After all, dogs are a lot of work. Too much work. And I am a cat person.

Then someone called and said, One of Them Might Be Available. What did we think? We really thought hard about the responsibility. We thought we were up for it. The boys were for it, and promised they would help out. So when Scout was 6 1/2 weeks old, we brought her home.

To be continued.....