Pets are good practice for life. They teach us the value of companionship and devotion. They give us a chance to take care of something that needs us. They remind us that if we do not take care of them, our mothers might get rid of them and not feel sorry for us when we realize that the pet is gone two weeks later. (Not that my brothers and I ever had this experience with a guinea pig named Peanut.)
Last weekend our cat Rudy disappeared. We’re not exactly sure when it happened. We had a house-full of people and it’s normal in those situations for him to hide-out until the house is back to normal. Anyway, he’s still not back. I miss that dumb cat. More importantly, Noah misses that dumb cat. He runs into the house after school to see if Rudy has returned. He insists that all the closet and cupboard doors stay open just in case Rudy is stuck and will eventually come sauntering out. He prays at dinner that Rudy will be safe wherever he is and come back soon. He asks tough questions about why God hasn’t answered his prayers about Rudy in the way he was intending the prayers to be answered.
It kind of stinks.
But it’s probably the first of many conversations about unfair things happening and living with unanswered questions.
That kind of stinks too.
Maybe Rudy will return and we’ll get to imagine the grand adventure he’s been on for the last week. Maybe he won’t.
I remember burying pets in the back yard as a kid. I remember it hurting all the way down to my toes. I don’t want my kids to feel that way. But sometimes pets run away, and I can’t stop it.
That kind of stinks the most.
Poor Noah. It’s just not easy to explain, is it?
Ahhh Peanut. I remember sneaking a last teary peak at Heidi in the garage before the funeral. That does stink.
you’re a wise mama……….. sometimes we can only cry together………..
Well spoken, Julie. A truth.