Three years ago today, my buddy
"Winnie Woo" was born. He was just a tiny rat-sized ball of
gray-and-white fur then. He had long hair that
stood up on
his head making him look like he had an "afro" hairdo.
He's a cat-sized mischievous "Wascal" now. What's
that? Why
call him cat-sized? Well, that's because he's a
cat. Oh,
now you are wondering why I said he was a mischievous "Wascal"
(that's
my Winnie-fied version of "rascal")? See my first answer;
that
says it all. Cats are always getting into trouble, but they
always look so mournful when discovered that it's hard to punish them.
(For the record, his official name is Winston Churchill. I
wanted a
person-type name for the little guy--and my friend suggested Winston
Churchill, which immediately appealed to me. I think Mr.
Churchill wouldn't mind. I've read he liked cats.
)
But really, he's a great feline friend. Of course, he likes
to
sneak into the chicken house or hop up into the feed bucket to eat
chicken food, really needs a bath (!!!) is a little stubborn at times,
likes to roll around in the chickens' water dish (before the water is
put in), jumps into the sink when you are getting water and tries to
drink from the faucet, pesters you ("Meeeow, meeeow!"*dashes toward
food dish and fixes you with pleading eyes*) until you feed him, and
gets tangles in his hair. However, I assure you that his
merits
outweigh his demerits. And he knows the difference between
wild
birds and my baby chicks--he's smart and leaves the chickens in
peace. I taught him they were his friends when he was just a
baby:
I love living things--especially little animals. When God
gave
Winnie to me, it was at a stressful time in my life. The
encouragement and blessing that little kitten brought me then was
great. I carried him around on my shoulder and sometimes he'd
put
his paws around my neck and give me a hug. He's much bigger
now,
and doesn't like to be held as much, but we're just as good friends as
ever. He's my cat, and I'm "his human" and we both know it.
Me and my pal
The most wonderful thing about Winnie is his loving
heart.
He puts up with us, and loves us, even though some of my family
members
forget and call him "she" a lot (we mistakenly thought he was a girl
once, you see). He's shy toward strangers, but once he knows
you,
he loves you with his whole little heart--and voicebox. You
really should hear him purr.
He loves to play with me and
chew (gently!) on my fingers.
God gave humans dominion over the animals. He
knew that
they would need our care--and that we'd need and enjoy the love and
joy
they give. So when I look at my cat, I thank God for giving
him
to me and smile, knowing that God loves animals too, and cares for
them
more than I ever can. And in His care for even the smallest
of
animals, we see a tiny picture of His great love and
providence.
"Look at the birds of the air, that they do not sow, neither do they
reap, nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them.
Are you not worth much more than they?" (Matthew 6:26) I know that
even
my cat is more deserving of God's love than I; my cat has committed no
sin, yet I have committed many, and deserve punishment, not
love--though in His grace He proclaims me to be "worth much more" than
the birds of the air and has bestowed His saving love on me.
Thank You, Father, for Your great love. Thank You for saving
me
and not giving me what my sin deserved but paying the penalty Yourself
on the cross, that You might bring me into fellowship with
Yourself. And thank You for giving me Winnie, to remind me of
You
and Your love.
