Another important detail was securing a handicap-accessible unit since my sister Amy would be living with me, and our mom would stay with us part of the time. The apartment that was available to tour in June was the perfect place for us: it had a handicap space right in front of it, and the hall bathtub had been converted to a walk-in shower. Further, it was located directly next to the World Relief clubhouse where we'd had the coat drive that started this whole adventure. If we lived there, we would be able to step outside our door and take a few steps to arrive at the park where women and children played each evening.
That unit, however, was about $300 more per month than the two other available four-bedroom apartments on the ground floor. "Lord, this is the place I want to live," I prayed. "Please, would you bring the price down for us? Even so, not my will, but yours."
One of the details that did not work out as planned was having to take both of my cats with us. I had hoped that Ethan would reclaim Arwen since she had been his cat in the beginning. Even though she is my favorite cat--sorry, I can't help it--I knew that no one would be willing to take the other cat, CiCi, because she is mean to everyone except me and Allyson. Two cats seemed too many for a cramped apartment with no garage for the litter box, and I tried to convince Ethan to at least take Arwen on a trial basis.
Ethan regretfully stood his ground. They already had three cats and a dog, and they couldn't add any more animals to their household.
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| The Two Cats Sharing Some Tuna Juice |
Since the only place their litter box could go was the closet in my office and part-time bedroom, I decided to do something I'd wanted to do for years: I bought an automatic litterbox, the computerized kind that not only cleans itself after every use, but even tells you which cat went, and how long it took. My friend at work had assured me that this box was virtually effortless and had absolutely no stink.
She was right about there being zero stink, but only because both of my cats refused to use it. Even though I let their other box get even smellier than normal, they utterly ignored the fancy round box with the pristine litter. I tried everything I could think of, including planting a turd or two in it so that one cat would think the other was using it and get jealous. They were not fooled.
As the date of our move approached, I asked everyone I knew to pray that the cats would use their new box. Someone did use it, but only once. I was getting desperate, fearing I had wasted a lot of money and that I would have to cohabit with a smelly litter box.
One evening at dinner, I asked Mom if she would pray that the cats would pee and poop in the box since Amy and I had already prayed several times. Having never been presented with such an odd prayer request, she began her prayer rather sheepishly. Once she got warmed up, however, she prayed fervently and very thoroughly. "Lord, I ask that Arwen and CiCi would have a desire to pee and poop in their new box," she prayed. "Let them feel comfortable in it and think, 'This is a good place to poop.'"
I pressed my lips together hard and turned my head away from Amy even though my eyes were closed; I could hear her barely contained snickers, and that made it harder to hold my own laughter in. When Mom wrapped up her prayer with, "And we will give you all the honor and the glory for this," Amy and I both lost it and burst into laughter. Hearing the words honor and glory juxtaposed against the topic of cats peeing and pooping was just too much.
My fear that Mom would be offended was immediately allayed when she, too, burst into uncontrollable laughter. "I've never prayed about something like that," she said, as soon as she could speak.
"Thank you for praying, Mom," I said. "I'm sure God will answer your prayer."
That evening, Mom suggested putting catnip in front of the box. I happened to have some on hand, so I sprinkled it liberally on the high-tech mat which had been designed to trap scattered litter.
Within an hour, I found Arwen rolling luxuriously all over the mat. Next, CiCi emerged from the garage through the cat door and zipped like a pinball all around the living room. I knew she'd been rolling in catnip, too.
The catnip must have been divine inspiration, because the next day the litterbox app alerted me that someone had used the box... two times. Over the course of the next week or ten days, the cats used the box sporadically, but they also used the old box. After a week or so, I quietly removed the other box.
We all agreed that it truly was glorious. The box was always clean, and there was very little smell even though the garage was very hot. All I had to do was scoop more litter into the silicone tray each day and empty out the litter drawer once a week.
Meanwhile, the handicap-accessible apartment that I'd wanted dropped into my price range. I was thrilled! On the day I signed the lease, though, the leasing agent half whispered, "Are you sure you want that unit? The lady who lived there said there were a lot of mice."
Now I knew why Arwen needed to make the move with us. She is a skilled hunter, able to kill any creature that invades our home, from water bugs to garter snakes. "Oh, I'm not worried," I assured the agent. "I have two cats."
The last detail to work out was a big one: Amy needed to find someone to adopt her beloved dog, Macey. The apartment had a limit of two pets. We asked everyone we knew, but no one knew of anyone who wanted an elderly Chihuahua mix. Hearing Amy's heartfelt prayers brought tears to my eyes. She asked God to help her let go of Macey and to trust Him to place her with someone who would be blessed by Macey, just as Macey had been a blessing in her own life.
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| Amy with Macey Shortly After Her Stroke |
We were down to the wire by the time I posted a request on the NextDoor app, a social media site similar to Facebook but for neighborhoods. Most of the responses were overwhelmingly negative because people assumed we were discarding the dog because she was old. But a woman named Heather said that she had been looking for a Chihuahua because she'd lost hers almost a year before. She had just started praying about finding a dog when she spotted Macey's picture, which revealed an uncanny resemblance to her old dog.
We brought Macey over to meet her the next day, and it was love at first sight for both of them. After a couple of playdates, in which Macey lay in the bed and watched dog movies on Disney, she went into her new home without hesitation. Although Amy was sad to leave her, she knew that Macey would be dearly loved and spoiled much more than she would have been in our house.
We've stayed in touch with her new owner, and we are delighted at this glorious answer to not only Amy's prayers, but also Heather's.
Everything was now in place for our move. But that's a story for another day.
