Reflections: Lessons from . . . the cat?

My cat, Dexter, frequently finds his way into my writing, and based on the number of people interacting with comments and photos on the Orange Cat Appreciation Group Facebook page, I’m not the only one who appreciates my feline friend, even if said friend is annoying sometimes. 

“Orange cats”—various shades of orange, yellow, tawny, etc., with or without white paws or other markings—are widely considered to have special traits of their own. Most, although not all, are male; and many are friendly and playful. 

As I processed things after my dad passed away, sometimes I just had to sit down and journal or pray or reflect—and still do. Dexter somehow seemed to know when I needed special grace, and he still does. Climbing up beside me or on my lap, he pats my arm gently with his paw or nuzzles his head against my face to say, “It’s okay, just rest a bit, I’ll help you.” 

He’s also a good practical helper: Any rodent messing around our place gets dealt with quickly, as does any bug that finds its way inside. Dexter lets me know when a car enters the driveway or someone steps on the porch; his mannerisms indicate whether he recognizes the vehicle and whether the person arriving is my husband, a friend/family member, or a stranger; and if the latter, whether or not he/she looks trustworthy. 

Those are qualities I’d like to emulate more. When a friend or family member is going through something tough, I don’t have to have all the answers; I can just let them know I’m there, I’m praying, and I’m willing to listen. When a spiritual attack, or even a practical risk, seems to rear its head against someone I care about, I can go on guard, start praying, and be ready to speak up if God so leads. Sometimes, that thing I care about is my nation or my freedom, and like Dexter, I need to be attentive about who or what is approaching and how to get involved. 

On the other hand, my cat has a few traits I could do without. He likes to call the shots, sometimes jumps on the counter in spite of efforts to teach him not to—just like I sometimes move forward without praying about whether my good idea is a God idea. Dexter likes routine, including mealtimes, and meows loudly if things deviate much—this is great if we forgot to set the alarm, but much less helpful if visiting grandkids are still asleep in the family room. 

When sometimes I have to change the routine for his own good, such as before a trip to the vet, it doesn’t usually go well. Similarly, sometimes God changes my plan or routine for my own good or that of others. Instead of yowling loudly about it, maybe I should ask Him if what I need to learn from the interruption. 

I’m always amazed by the ways God can use ordinary things like my cat, or more awe-inspiring things like the soaring mountains in my son’s recent vacation pictures, or anything in between, to remind me that He is present, cares about me, and wants me to turn to Him no matter what. 

Oops, I need to sign off now; Dexter somehow seems to be stuck in the closet.