I suppose I've earned the title of crazy cat lady. I talk to my cats. Otherwise this house would be much too quiet. They like to hear my voice and yes, they talk back. No one but me understands what they say. But that's okay since there's no one to judge our conversations.
All three of my cats were adopted from our Vet's office and they are all three from one litter, proving how different siblings can be.
Wilbur wakes me each morning at 6:00 a.m. He hasn't accepted that I no longer have to wake early enough to commute to a day job, even though more than three years have gone by since retirement. He lays on my lap and purrs really loud, gives me long, loving looks. He never starts a conversation, but responds to I love you with a soft quick, love you back.
He's always getting into something he shouldn't. Our conversations go like this:
Me: Templeton, get down from there.
Templeton: (turns to look at me) No!
Me: Do I have to get the water bottle? (I use a spray bottle to correct them)
Templeton: (Gives me the look and dares me with a loud) Go ahead!
Me: I mean it. Get down!
Templeton: (Ignores me) Continues to move forward with confidence and a soft meowing sound that equates to Right, like you're really going to do that.
Me: I make a loud display of getting out of my chair.
Templeton: Looks over his shoulder and stops, but doesn't obey.
Me: Now you're in trouble! (I reach for the bottle)
Templeton: Jumps down with a loud I didn't mean it! Saunters away.
Me: Yeah, and don't you forget it!
I've decided his little acts of disobedience are to distract me from spending time looking at the monitor. While I've been writing this, I've had to jump out of my chair twice to threaten a spray from the bottle. The cabinet door where the large bowls are stored is standing open. He is sitting beside me trying to strike up a conversation. Cats are smart and they reason out problems...even how to open drawers and doors. Sigh.
Charlotte is the smaller, dainty female of the litter. She prefers spending her day sleeping on my bed in the sun's rays. She gives out loving on her terms. Such a diva!
She alternately hisses at the boys or grabs them for a loving face wash.
She isn't as vocal, but has the loudest voice. Mostly I tell her I love her, she rubs my arms and responds with a raspy I love you, too.
Ah, life is never dull around here. We have learned to live together somewhat peaceably. As long as I provide the food and water and keep the litter clean, they are content.
Every day I thank God for his blessings. My house is not empty, or without activity. The five of us have moved into a semblance of content. My three cats, me and God.
Not long after that, Jesus went to the village Nain. His disciples were with him, along with quite a large crowd. As they approached the village gate, they met a funeral procession--a woman's only son was being carried out for burial. And the mother was a widow. When Jesus saw her, his heart broke. He said to her, "Don't cry." Then he went over and touched the coffin. The pallbearers stopped. He said, "Young man, I tell you: Get up." the dead son sat up and began talking. Jesus presented him to his mother. -- Luke 7:11-15 (MSG)
Jesus isn't going to bring Ron back to me. I wouldn't want that. Wouldn't want him to continue suffering. No, he was called home to meet Jesus face to face. What a glorious life for him! But Jesus hasn't forgotten me, the grieving widow. Each day he continues to bring laughter and love into my life through my cats, my friends, and family. Each day he gives me the strength to get through whatever comes. He holds my hand, leads me, and understands. Yes, he even understands why my cats and I have conversations.