Of our four cats, Nigel was held the dearest. Affectionate and gregarious, he would seek us [...]]]> Ripping up and down our long carpeted hall like two low-slung racecars, they hug the floor to round corners at breakneck speed. Sir Nigel and Lady Maude loved this little diversion. I can still see them with my mind's eye.

Of our four cats, Nigel was held the dearest. Affectionate and gregarious, he would seek us out and demand our undivided attention.

He and Maude worked our their own strategy for wrestling. First, one would crouch as the other prepared to attack. Then after a bit of high-spirited biting, scratching, and scuffling, they would exchange roles and make another foray.

Endowed with the most striking colors and the fluffiest elegant fur, Nigel was easily the most beautiful cat we have ever seen. He inspired our creativity, and we began to invent endearing rhymes about him and his unusual appearance: Nigel Pygel, fluffy cat, like a lady's Sunday hat.

But Nigel had a leaning–actually more of a yearning–which I feared from the very beginning would be harmful to him. He would beg to go outside, and we would eventually succumb to his pleadings. Once out, he would run with abandon around the yard, fluffy fur flowing in wind. The busy street never got a cautionary glance as he exercised his freedom.

And thus it was on a dark evening not long ago that our son Barrett went to hail Nigel in for the night, but he didn't come. A search ensued, ending across the street where Nigel lay dead. His carefree attitude had brought him to destruction.

We gathered him home as carefully as possible. Barrett buried him the next morning after I had gone to work, assuming the unpleasant duty that had always been mine before. Laying a beloved pet to rest is not easy.

Nigel was only a little kitty, but I have missed him greatly. Maude, his ever-present companion, has grieved for him, too. She sniffs at places where he had been, searching for the playmate her nose tells her can't be far away.

On our respective journeys through life, we lose many important things. We lose health and physical capabilities. We lose parents, friends, and family. We lose possessions and positions. Compared to these major crises, the Nigel's death is not that significant. But the sudden removal of anything near and dear requires an adjustment.

As always, life goes on, and we do adjust. While with us, Nigel brought pleasure and enjoyment. His sudden demise brings a sober reminder. We might all want to be free of constraint, to fly with the wind, to do as we please. But danger crouches for the naïve, ready spring when they least expect. There is some safety in our limitations; there is a price to pay for too much freedom.

But in moments of whimsy I still see those two low-slung racers hugging the floor as they careen at breakneck speed. Nigel Pygel, fluffy cat….

Copyright 2001 James McAlister

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A little more than an hour before, we had found his cat, Peach, on the driveway. He had been hit by a car and would die within minutes. He had tried to run [...]]]> As I began writing this, I was anxiously waiting for our son Barrett to come home. We had some sad news for him.

A little more than an hour before, we had found his cat, Peach, on the driveway. He had been hit by a car and would die within minutes. He had tried to run to the safety of the home he loved but couldn’t make it. So there he fell.

Peach had been Barrett’s faithful companion all through his teen years and would easily abandon both Mary and me to sit in Barrett’s lap. He was surely the most gentle of animals, but death comes without respect to the gentle as well as the cruel.

Peach was obviously in pain and would sometimes cry out. We prayed that his suffering would be brief.

It was. His life ebbed quickly, and his distress lessened bit by bit. And at some indistinguishable moment, life had unwilling been overtaken once again by death. What a mysterious process death is, one that we will not understand this side of heaven.

But we do know that because of Adam’s sin, all will eventually die (Romans 5:12). Because of Adam’s sin, creation itself was unwillingly put in the bondage of futility and corruption (Romans 8:20). Even God’s creatures cannot escape the curse that came from man’s failure.

The death of this simple creature is another reminder that in this age, death rules unchallenged. But it won’t always be that way. Creation groans, as do we, waiting for that glorious day of release, that day when the power of the curse will be broken for all time (Romans 8:21).

In the last moments of Peach’s life, he left us with a remembrance of our commitments to him in his time of suffering. He had tried to raise his head but couldn’t, so Mary held it up for him. It was then that she noticed his purring, She continued holding his head, stroking his ears, and speaking kindly to him until the purring stopped. And thus he departed, saying in his own way, “We’ve done our best for each other while we could; now it’s time to go.”

We have many fond memories of his short time with us and a renewed hope that there is One yet to come who has Himself thoroughly conquered death (Romans 8:22-23, Revelation 1:18). And we anxiously long for that day when we — and all of creation with us — will finally be set free.

AGAIN FOREVER FREE

There was a day now cast in shame
When Adam’s sin forged heavy chains
That bound creation bright and free
In deep and dark captivity.

Today creation groans in pain
As death unchallenged harshly reigns
To make us slaves unwillingly
And hold us in futility.

Now, “Abba, Father” is the cry
Of all who look unto the sky
For One to set creation free
With sons of God in liberty.

Redemption comes with measured pace,
For He who flung the worlds in space
Then marked upon the dial of time
A moment certain and sublime.

(Refrain)
Our Conqueror with sword of hope
Will slash asunder Satan’s ropes
So man and beast and land and sea
Will be again — forever — free.

(Based on Romans 8:15-25)

Copyright 1999 James McAlister

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Now "Abba Father" is the cry Of all who look unto the sky For One to set creation free With sons [...]]]> There was a day now cast in shame
When Adam's sin forged heavy chains
That bound creation bright and free
In deep and dark captivity.
Creation groans today in pain
As death unchallenged harshly reigns
And holds us in futility
As his own slaves unwillingly.

Now "Abba Father" is the cry
Of all who look unto the sky
For One to set creation free
With sons of God in liberty.
Redemption comes with measured pace,
For He who flung the worlds in space
Then marked upon the dial of time
Its moment certain and sublime.

(Refrain)
Our Conquerer with sword of hope
Will slash asunder Satan's ropes
So man and beast and land and sea
Will be again — forever — free.

Copyright 1999 James McAlister

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Often a bit cantankerous, she had a gentle side as well. And despite an obvious feebleness in her last days, she was ever faithful in carrying out the earthly duties [...]]]> I lost an old friend this week. Yes, we had our differences, and conflicts sometimes arose with inevitable clashings of two strong wills. Hers usually won.

Often a bit cantankerous, she had a gentle side as well. And despite an obvious feebleness in her last days, she was ever faithful in carrying out the earthly duties assigned to her. She always met me with a warm greeting, anticipating a little kindness and tenderness in return. I’m ashamed to say that I often failed to reward those genuine overtures; it would have taken so little effort.

We have a way of thinking that life will always go on, that opportunities to do the right things will never end, that tomorrow we’ll do this or that. But her demise says otherwise.

Pets have played a major role in our lives, and each death brings a bit of sadness. Old Ooza Puddy Too’s was no exception.

Even as a cat she taught us a lot. Her contrary ways stretched our patience, painting a picture in miniature of similar interactions with disagreeable people. Yet of such tolerance some would say, “Why bother? After all, they’re only animals.” It’s never a surprise to me when those who exhibit such disdain also run a bit roughshod in their human relationships.

Don’t get me wrong; we are to exercise dominion over animals, and human needs take precedence. But dominion and harshness are not the same; neither is compassion an indicator of weakness. Paraphrasing King Solomon, “A good man takes care of his animals….” Better not to take on a responsibility than be sloppy at it.

The quick passages that pets make through life should sober us a bit. That universal system of justice that keeps books on us all might — just might –reckon more to their accounts than some would suspect. They’ve rendered faithful, loyal, uncomplaining service…and brought a lot of pleasure and happiness in the process.

Advancing years, declining health, and dwindling resources have an irresistible way of turning life’s tables so that even the strongest and most defiant become weak and dependent. Before that happens, wouldn’t it be better to learn to have compassion for all that depend upon us … people and animals? If we don’t, those reversed roles may not be too comfortable when we need compassion ourselves.

Farewell, old friend! We’ll miss you!

WHEN SPARROWS FALL

I find it hard to think at all
That He who knows when sparrows fall
And gives the animals their breath
Would lack compassion in their death.

For some have filled a noble role,
Provided pleasure and consoled,
By giving love without demands,
Ignoring harshness by our hands.

Could not the King who transcends all,
The One who knows when sparrows fall,
Extend to them some small delight
By showing feeling for their plight?

Copyright 1998 James McAlister

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Copyright 1996 James McAlister

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