Saved! Rescued! Homeless to Loved! In the beginning it is glorious! Rescued from a “homeless” life of wandering–safety and contentment of body and soul. Still unsure of how everything works in this new family, but enjoying being a part of it. This new found wonder brings joy for a time, and then “it” returns–discontentment.
Legs was a lanky, long-legged teenage kitten when she picked out our apartment. She would wait in the tree next to the walkway until my car would pull up, then she would pounce onto the hood and meow incessantly until I went inside to retrieve a can of cat food for her. I couldn’t bear the thought she had no home, hungry, or scrounging for her next meal in a dumpster.
I bought the best cat food–not that she was “worthy”–after all, she wasn’t my “pet”…yet. But I loved her. I loved her because she needed me, even though she didn’t realize it. I loved her because she came near and allowed me to love her, in the simplest of ways.
Winter came and she was still unsure of coming inside. I rigged up a cardboard box with a blanket and a heating pad because I wanted her to have a warm place to sleep. Yet, she chose to sleep on top of the box! 😐
A few weeks later it was time to move into our new home. I prayed earnestly, “God, if I am to take this cat with me, give me a sure sign”. As I walked out of the apartment with the last box, Legs jumped from the bushes onto the tailgate of the pickup, turned, and sat down facing me! Let me tell you, this was all of the “sign” I needed!! I pulled the pet carrier from the back seat, sat it on the tailgate next to her and opened the crate door. SHE WALKED IN BY HERSELF! I latched the door, put her in the cab of the truck and off we went to “our” new home.
Legs loved the new house, the new backyard with all of the trees. She now came into the house, slept at my feet and slowly became a loving pet. She was a bit unsure of being held, but allowed anyone to pet her–even my small grandchildren. We were officially a family.
As time continued, I saw discontentment growing. She would eat breakfast and head to the back door to be let outside. No longer content with the protection of our fenced yard, she would jump over the fence and explore the neighborhood during the day, returning at night for a can and a comfortable place to sleep. This continued for a few months, then came evenings she wouldn’t return for 2-3 days.
One evening I saw her stumbling across the patio toward the back door. As I opened, she walked inside and fell over–she had been shot in the back with a pellet gun! I called the emergency veterinarian and with rest and medicine, she made a full recovery.
She seemed content back in the house, sleeping in her “spot” on the end of my bed. But soon discontentment and old habits returned–only this time her excursions lasted 3-4 days, even a week, at a time.
Legs was shot again. She returned home for medical care. She recovered, and resumed her life of exploring. She was in a fight. Infected bite wounds caused her to return for more medical attention and rest. Every time I obliged willingly, yet hoping she would come to love it in the safety of our home and backyard!
As her wanderings increased, so did her “distance” from us. No longer allowing us to pet her, she would pull away, even hiss at times, then run to the back door to be let outside again. Her occasional visits lasted only a few minutes, then she was gone again. She seemed only to want what I had to offer when all of her own options failed her.
Her visits now are months apart. There have been many times I assumed she was deceased, only to see her return again for a can of food and some milk. My heart has begun to grieve the loss of her as my pet–for I know deep inside she doesn’t want to live here. She prefers life “on her terms”.
Legs’ life draws such a picture of how so many people who claim Jesus live: In the beginning, they come willingly and gratefully to this new life of forgiveness and rest under His loving care. Eventually becoming discontent, they venture away a little at a time, returning only when sick or in need. Soon they return to “their way”–to those things they think bring them joy outside of His protection. They are rarely seen or heard from by Him–but still wear the “collar” He placed on them when He adopted them as His own.
Legs came by today, still wearing her collar. I hadn’t seen her in four months. (Today is Easter Sunday–the last time I saw her was four days before Christmas. You have to appreciate the irony!) As usual, I opened the back door, fed her a can and a bowl of milk, petted her, and then with a hiss she ran to the back door and I let her outside. I watched with a grieving heart as she climbed the tree, glanced back, then jumped over the fence. I’m not sure I will see her again before this life she has chosen will bring her to an untimely end.
I still love her. I want a relationship with her. I want to protect her and give her a long, blessed life. I cry at the realization that she will not allow me to give her what I am so willing to provide. I would never want to “cage her”–for that is not love–I want her to desire to be a part of this family and live here of her own free will–but the choice is hers. The choice is yours.
Suggested reading: Matthew 7:21-23, John 3:16-21, Deuteronomy 28, Psalm 91
