There is honor to hold on to when caring for someone
I didn’t think we would reach this point so soon, but here we are. Our kitty, Anna, is not just a beloved member of our family, she is my husband, Robert’s, “soul pet.”
Anna was 3 years old when we adopted her in 2017. Or so we thought. She napped on Robert’s chest that first night, setting their unbreakable bond. Last year, a routine X-ray showed significant arthritis typically found in a 10-yearold cat, which meant
Anna was 6 years old at adoption. Losing those three years was a whiplash blow to Robert. Last month, another hit — after blood work confirmed she has kidney disease.
Now, things are different in our house. Anna is on four medications and special food that is easier for her kidneys to process. Our half-bath is now the kitty’s bathroom — easier for Anna than going to the basement. Most days, she needs encouragement to eat a full day’s portion of food. And lastly, the charm of her hopping on Robert’s lap eager to rub her head against his arm is gone; Robert picks her up now.
Every once in a while I catch Robert’s moist eyes and I know he is thinking about even more time that was stolen. I remind him that we have a plan to slow the progression and we are wholly working the plan. Robert closes his eyes in agreement.
As sad as I am about Anna, I am also grateful God placed this needy soul in our care. It is our belief that Anna was hit often by her former owners — every day we hope our dependable love dims those awful memories. And now Anna can completely lean on us to help her navigate a challenge we never expected to face in just four short years. And, while that truth crushes our hearts, feeling devastated is not the only emotions to be had. There is also honor.
It is only because of God that we found Anna, that she and Robert developed their bond and that we are the ones who will bring her though her senior years. Even if we
never adopted Anna, she was still going to have kidney disease. As much as I hate that she has this, I am so relieved that Robert and I get to take care of her.
So, when I focus on the purpose of caring for Anna, the heaviness subsides a bit. Robert may have no control over this kidney condition or losing those years, but he will have input on every decision, large and small, to make sure Anna has everything she needs. I know there many situations much more critical than a sick kitty. But the question remains: Who can do a better job caring for those we love?
There are a scads of people who can do an adequate job, but nobody can take care of them the way we can. As impossible as it feels to keep up that care, we wouldn’t do anything less
— our honor won’t allow us to slack off. And that honor will not just help soothe the knots in our stomachs, it also confirms God’s trust in us to care for His children. And to do that is just another way to tell Him that we love Him.