Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: The Family Pet (05/15/08)
By Donna Carrico
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My heart softened as I snuggled the frightened kitty. His medium length fur was mostly black and white with a little patch of brown here and there. I decided to call him "Moses" because they had rescued him from death row at the local Humane Society in a similar way that the Biblical Moses was rescued from the bulrushes. We often called him "Mody" or "Mody Kitty" for short.
While I was at work, they picked out "their" cat. Although it was "their" kitty, they had not gotten food or the kitty litter pan. To add to this situation, they had fed the new kitty bologna and milk.
The first place he chose to initiate was the bottom of my side of the closet. It did not help him to get him on my good side! His poor little tummy was so upset without proper food and no place to potty. I made a fast trip to the pet store to get the much needed supplies.
Moses chose to sleep on my pillow, curled up around my head, kneading my hair as he went to sleep. He continued to sleep there for years until he finally got so big that he took up more room than my own head on the pillow.
I taught him to fetch the blue ring off the top of the milk jug. I would lie in bed and throw the ring down the hallway. Moses would find it, jump up on the bed, and lay it in my outstretched hand. This process was repeated many times. His other favorite toy was formerly a refrigerator magnet that looked like an ice cream cone. He was a good cat and I never had the problem of him getting on the top of the cabinets or kitchen table.
We called Moses our Christian cat. He had a patch of white on his back in the shape of a cross. He loved music and would often curl up by the speakers and especially by my karaoke machine when I sang. When we would have home meetings, he would hop up on a folding chair with his little paws hanging over the edge and sit perfectly still for the whole meeting just like he knew what was going on.
Like most cats, he had a very independent spirit. He did not like to be picked up and held. I think it was because he was abused before we got him. He would choose whose lap he wanted to sit on. After that, he would let you pet him, but not hold him tight. He was raised in an atmosphere with two children, but he was terrified of strange visiting children and would usually hide and not come out till they were gone. He used to play with my daughter chasing her as she ran around the house returning the chase.
A pastor from a local church came to our home. As he offered prayer, Moses took a run from the floor up one arm, around the back, and down the other arm of the pastor's chair. The pastor had solemnly closed his eyes during the prayer and he jumped up and said, "What was that?" We were doubling over in laughter as our precious Moses had never done anything like that or never did it again.
Moses lived for over 19 years. He was a real blessing and comfort to me as I became more and more disabled. I went through a lot of emotional stress as he lost his teeth, feeding him with an eye dropper, and with God and me nursing him back from the brink of death more then once. I held him in my arms as he breathed his last breath and I offered him up to God. I was relieved I did not have to make the decision to have him put to sleep. He is buried under a tree at my daughter's home in a box with his favorite blanket, his paper work from the vet, and his toys. Thank you, Lord for my faithful Moses.
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