Coronavirus Day 2 - A Sweet Nurse

When I woke up Thursday morning, I stumbled to the bathroom feeling a little nauseated and rather dizzy. I noticed that my thighs felt quite warm.

I went to Allyson's room and asked for the thermometer; she'd been battling cold symptoms since the prior Saturday, but she never had any fever.

My temperature was 100.3 degrees, quite elevated compared to my typical 97.5. I also had a headache and a mild sore throat. I felt too nauseated to eat, but I made myself drink as much water as I could force down. Then I called myself in sick.

I called Allyson in sick as well; this was the first day she had not felt up to attending online classes. Shortly after this, we learned that her Covid-19 test had come back positive. 

I couldn't sleep in my bed because lying flat made me too nauseated. So I spent the entire day propped up on the couch, wrapped up in fluffy pajama pants, fluffy socks, and a blanket. Most of the time, this sweet nurse kept me company.

I ordered some canned soup, coconut water, and toilet paper online. When it arrived, I didn't feel up to eating yet, so I just drank some of the coconut water and heated Allyson's soup in the microwave.

At 2:00 I had a virtual visit with my doctor, who warned me to watch for diarrhea, vomiting, or shortness of breath. He said I should get tested and assume that I had Covid-19 in the meantime. "There's nothing we can do for you at this point. Just drink plenty of fluids and get lots of rest. Call if you get worse," he said.

I drove 15 minutes to the drive-through testing site run by the county for a free mouth-swab test. There was no line, and I was thankful to get in an out within 10 minutes because the sun beaming on me made me feel even more sick and dizzy on this unseasonably warm winter day. 

As hot as I'd been in the car, by the time I climbed back onto the couch, I was freezing. My temperature was now 100.8. 

By now, Allyson had gone to her dad's house. I didn't like being alone in the house because I'd read too many horror stories about cases suddenly turned deadly in adults who are single like me. I called my mom, and she prayed for me. That made me feel better.

My neck was stiff from my awkward position on the couch, so I decided to sleep in what is now the cats' room, on a lovely bed with an adjustable base that is usually covered with a clear plastic table cloth to protect it from the cats' claws. The only obstacle between me and my comfy bed was two dirty litter boxes and two hungry cats. I rallied my strength and fed the cats, then sat down to catch my breath before dumping the boxes into their sifting pans and dumping the mess into the Litter Genie. I sat down again and then carried the large plastic pans and the litter boxes into the hall and the living room, where they will remain for the duration of this illness. 

My teeth chattered as I washed my hands, and I sank into bed gratefully and pulled the covers up to my chin. I raised the head of the bed so that I was halfway to a seated position; that kept the nausea at bay. I'd neglected to shut the door, so the cats were both in bed with me through the night, but they didn't bother me too much with their restlessness. I slept pretty well, considering.

===============================

Vitals: 113/69, 95 beats per minute, temp 100.3 to 100.8

Symptoms: fever, chills, joint pain, headache, mild nausea, dizziness, fatigue, mild nasal congestion, mild sore throat

Every Day Is Kitten Day

Okay, as always I don't have any time, but I've just got to share a few cat stories. I'll go way back to the beginning....

Wednesday, October 22nd was the big day when we got to pick up CiCi. That week of waiting was torture for Allyson, who counted down the days to Kitten Day several times per day.

At long last, the day arrived. We brought our 1.5-pound kitty home in a carrier, lined with her favorite blankie. Tucked under my arm was a spiral notebook with frantically scribbled notes that I probably never actually referred back to.

I was most nervous about introducing CiCi to Arwen. She made wide circles around the carrier, nose twitching. When Ethan opened the wire door and CiCi stepped out, I heard Arwen hiss for the very first time. Over the course of a few days, the cats approached each other cautiously and even touched noses, but it usually ended with Arwen hissing. I had to keep them apart, which is how CiCi ended up taking over my master bathroom.

On the first morning, I crept into Allyson's room and snuggled up to her. "Good morning, beloved princess, daughter of the Most High."

Her brow furrowed, and she turned her back to me.

"Good morning, Kitten Mama. Happy Kitten Day."

She grinned.

"You said Wednesday was Kitten Day," she murmured.

"It was. But now every day is Kitten Day," I said. "Okay, Kitten Mama. Your baby is crying for you."

It was true. CiCi cried plaintively, stretching her tiny front legs through the bars of her carrier to touch Allyson's arm. (Every night since CiCi came, Allyson has slept on her roll-out mattress on the floor, with CiCi's carrier next to her head.)

At first we fed CiCi a revolting blend of kitten formula mixed with wet cat food, which she sucked greedily from a medicine syringe. She chewed the tip of the syringe, turning her head from side to side so that much of the slop ended up in her fur, leaving her smelling perpetually like tuna. Worse, she clawed frantically at the syringe, scratching our fingers in the process.

So we quickly abandoned the syringe in favor of a saucer on the floor of my bathtub. In her excitement, CiCi walked all through the food, tracking it all over the tub and smearing it over her belly, so that she still smelled perpetually like tuna.

Gradually, we phased out the kitten formula and just gave her the wet food. And on the first day that she dove into Arwen's full bowl and stole some food, we started dropping a few pellets of dry food onto her plate.

Since then, we've had to lock her up when Arwen eats. Otherwise, she makes a beeline for the bowl. While Arwen stands back politely, CiCi climbs right into the bowl and growls menacingly as she gobbles as much as she can get down before I gingerly pull her out, holding her by her chubby belly and trying to avoid her razor-sharp claws.

Allyson and I had to watch Gremlins recently so she'd understand what I meant when I said that our sweet little CiCi turns into a mean Gremlin any time she gets around food. Even when she's alone in her bathtub, she growls quietly and kind of mutters to herself while she eats.

CiCi's not the only cat who's obsessed with food. Arwen is always on the lookout for any wet food CiCi might have missed. The moment I open the bathroom door to let CiCi out, the two cats pass each other on the way to check each other's bowl for leftovers.

They've become pretty good buddies, mostly. They love to tussle. CiCi seems to be the aggressor, but Arwen subdues her with a well placed bite now and then. Sometimes a sharp little cry from CiCi sends me running to separate them. Arwen gives me a guilty look, as if to say, "What? I didn't do anything."

Early on, Arwen started grooming CiCi, which always warms our hearts. CiCi isn't sure what she thinks of that, especially when Arwen holds her with both paws and gives her a good bath. CiCi kicks at Arwen's face with claws extended, and then the grooming session usually turns into a wrestling match.

The cutest thing is when they sleep side by side on Arwen's favorite perch on the back of the couch. That cushion has seen better days, but do you think I mind? I have become such a cat person!

Both cats are very nice nap buddies. We discovered this when Allyson and I were in bed for days with the flu recently. CiCi slept on Allyson's chest, which surely was good medicine. On the day I thought I was up to returning to work but ended up taking a five-and-a-half hour "nap," CiCi and Arwen were with me nearly the whole time. CiCi made a nest between my knees, and Arwen slept on my shin. 

This past Sunday, I was feeling particularly exhausted after church, still sapped from the flu, I think. We'd be putting up the tree that night, and I told God I really didn't feel up to that. We couldn't put it off any longer, though, because Allyson would be at Bill's for the next two days.

"Oh, Father," I prayed silently, over a sink full of dishes. "I'm so tired. Please give me strength to make it through this day. Help me to enjoy decorating the tree, for the kids' sake. Okay, for Allyson's sake." (Ethan had been less than enthusiastic about decorating the tree last Christmas, so I wasn't expecting much.)

God told me to leave those dishes and go take a nap. I set the microwave timer for 35 minutes, allowing 5 minutes to fall asleep and 30 minutes to sleep--which is my maximum, if I don't want to feel groggy for the rest of the day. 

The moment I fell into my nap chair, Arwen climbed onto the ottoman and curled up in the crook of my knees. Ah! And then CiCi climbed into my lap and curled herself around my belly. I smiled my thanks to God as I felt an infusion of joy giving me strength even as I slipped out of consciousness. 

When the beeping timer pulled me out of sleep about 33 minutes later, I was ready to face  both the dishes and the Christmas tree.

God had a wonderful surprise in store for me. After Allyson and I had put up the tree, Ethan came right out when I called him. He cheerfully hung all of his own ornaments and a bunch of the others, even the boring red and green balls (most of which Arwen and CiCi removed over the course of the next few days).

We drank some eggnog and then all three of us sat on the couch to admire the tree while I read the first few stories from our Jesse Tree book, which outlines Christ's lineage. 

Next, I read The Christmas Miracle of Jonathan Toomey, which never fails to make me cry. This year was no exception. 

What a delightful evening! This Christmas season, God has been blessing me with so many little joys, filling my heart to overflowing. When I think back to last year, I remember how lavishly He showed me his love--with the scripture-stuffed stocking from my friend Gentle and the cross painting from my sweet niece Hillary. This year, I want to give out that lavish love. God has put many ideas in my heart, ways to share His love with friends, family, and strangers. What a sweet pleasure. 

So, back to the cat stories... 

Within 15 minutes, the cats had run off with the tree skirt. I remembered last year, when Arwen drug it all over the house. This year I'm not even bothering to put it back. It will just lie in random places until Christmas Eve, when I weight it down with presents. 

We keep a big spray bottle with water and a bit of vinegar on the hearth, right by the tree, and I spray the cats liberally if they touch the tree. The temptation is too great, though. Every time my back's turned, CiCi bats at the branches or even nestles on a branch halfway up the tree. When she spots me, she tries to flee the scene, but I chase her down with the spray bottle. It's actually pretty fun. 

A Confusing Family Tree

Allyson considers herself CiCi's mama, which makes me... Grandma. Yes, Allyson calls me grandma when she's talking to CiCi. Ethan is Uncle, but sometimes he's Brother. And Arwen is Big Sister, which kind of makes her Ethan's sibling.

It's weird family dynamic, but it works!

Some Weird Cat Psychology

Okay, now for the stories I've been dying to tell you. First, a strange cat has been hanging around our backyard for the last week or so. The first day it showed up, Arwen cried like a baby as she watched it through the window. "How sweet! She wants to play," I thought. 

And then she started hurling herself against the window, rattling the blinds. She screamed and hissed, struggling to get to the other cat, who was hissing at her from the other side of the glass. 

If you don't find a cat's screams stressful, take a look for yourself...

Before this, I'd had no idea that our mild kitty had such a temper. It was pretty amusing until Arwen turned on CiCi, arching her back and hissing. I quickly separated them.

I've watched them closely since then, and Arwen seems as motherly as ever. But tonight a high-pitched shriek from CiCi brought me running to the living room. I found Arwen crouched at the back door, moaning piteously. That stupid cat was back. 

I don't know what Arwen had done to CiCi, but she seemed pretty spooked. When Arwen took a step toward her, she arched her back, all her fur standing on end. Allyson scooped her up and cradled her like a baby. "I won't let Arwen hurt you," she crooned. 

Arwen isn't the only cat acting weird. A few days ago, I was sitting at my desk when I heard loud purring coming from the bathroom. CiCi was sitting on the fuzzy bath mat alone, sounding like a vibrating engine. 

"Why is CiCi purring?" I asked Allyson. "She's just sitting on the rug by herself." 

"Oh, she always purrs when you put her on the mat," Allyson said.

"Why?"

"I don't know. She just likes it."

I went into the bathroom for a closer look. CiCi was sucking noisily on some rug fibers, kneading the rug luxuriously with her claws spread wide. "Allyson, she's trying to nurse the rug!" I said.

I grabbed my phone and took a video. If you turn up the volume, you might be able to hear CiCi purring.

Because I usually drape the mat over the shower door to keep CiCi from tracking kitty litter onto it, she doesn't have much time with it. Every time they are reunited during one of our showers, she purrs and nurses.

Have you ever heard of something so bizarre? 

It's humbling, actually. I'd been feeling so loved each time CiCi greeted me in the mornings with her loud purring. Now I realize that she feels the same way about my bath mat!

It's never a dull moment around here. Every day is Kitten Day. 

First Day of School and a Few Other Stories

After two weeks of school, I'm finally posting first-day-of-school photos. Enjoy....

Allyson with Mrs. D, already dearly loved

Wearing her thrift-store sequined blouse and the vest from her birthday

First-Day-of-School ice cream, which Ethan likes almost as much
as Last-Day-of-School ice cream (but not quite)

Ethan, Bill, Allyson, Meggie

I was proud that Allyson chose her thrift-store blouse, a souvenir from our recent Hill Country vacation, for the first day of third grade. She's most excited about the after-school clubs this year, including art and drama, as well as theater class once a week. I'm sure her acting career will really take off this year. 

Can you believe little Ethan is now a senior? Neither can I. He's growing up so fast. Last week he announced he wanted to apply for a job. He'd heard that a favorite hamburger joint was hiring, and I drove him over one evening to apply. "What should I say?" he asked.

"Just say, 'Hello. Are you accepting applications?'" I advised.

So that's what he did, while Allyson and I watched from the car. Every day, Allyson asks if he has turned in his application, and I tell her, "No, he hasn't filled it out yet." One step at a time.

A Little Arwen News

And now for an update on our sweet kitty, Arwen. She has become much more social, wonderful company for me. She no longer hides from all visitors, and occasionally she even lets them pet her for a moment. 

She is also an accomplished hunter. It's not uncommon to find dismembered bug parts in random spots. I always cringe but then wonder why it's not that gross to see a bug leg on the ground. Any other kind of leg would be revolting or even horrifying, but when I see a bug leg, I think, "Oh good. It's dead." And, "Where's the rest of it? Ugh." 

I shudder to think what's down my shower drain. Every chance Arwen gets, she nudges the shower door open and knocks the cover off the drain. Then she crouches over the hole, standing guard for up to an hour at a time. 

My shower isn't quite as dirty as it looks.
Let's say it's the bad lighting and the shadows.
And the cheap plastic floor that's impossible to clean. 

Sometimes she pokes a paw down there, and sometimes she puts her nose into the opening.

One morning a few weeks back, I came across a small grass snake in my kitchen and almost fainted before I realized it was dead. I left it there, waiting for Ethan to wake up and dispose of it for me. In the meantime, Arwen carted it off to the garage. 

When Ethan woke up, he said no way was he going to touch a snake. So my cousin Jenny, who was visiting from Indiana, bravely knocked it into a dustpan and threw it away in the kitchen trash. Ugh!

30-Second Hero

Lately, I've gotten into several scrapes, so much so that I'm beginning to think there's no point making plans because my day so often goes nothing like I planned it. For example, a couple weeks ago at 11 PM, my garage door wouldn't close. This was a true disaster because Arwen's litter box is in the garage, and we want to keep her an inside cat. My kind neighbors Neil and Steve came and screwed in a loose bolt, and then Neil fixed the garage door opener the next day. And then this past Sunday, Neil jump started my car... twice. (It turned out to be just a dead battery, thankfully.) 

The biggest emergency happened yesterday. Somehow, my master bathroom door got locked with no one in it. At first I blamed it on Allyson, but then I remembered going in the bathroom after I'd dropped her at school. So the culprit had to have been me. 

I wasn't too concerned at first. In fact, I saw it as an opportunity to learn new skills, remembering my friend Gentle's encouragement about that when I was newly single. First I poked a paperclip into the hole on the knob, and then the tip of a ball point pen, and then a small screw driver (at the suggestion of a coworker that I was having a phone meeting with). 

Nothing I tried worked, and I was getting anxious because I needed to brush my teeth and change clothes before a lunch date with one of my neighborhood friends. (My closet is inside the bathroom.) So I texted Kim and asked her to give me a couple more minutes.

I raced over to Neil's house and rang the bell, Thankfully, he wasn't busy and was happy to rescue me yet again. He'd had plenty of experience with picking inside locks, so this would be a piece of cake. Only it wasn't. He worked on it for 15 minutes with several implements he'd brought over, including an even smaller screw driver. 

Kim was on her way over, so we agreed to try again when I got back from lunch. While we were eating, Neil sent a text about locking himself out of his own bathroom, which had the same type of knob, and then easily opening it with a homemade slim jim. "I want another opportunity to be a 30 second hero," he said. "Call me when you get in."

He worked on the knob another 20 minutes or so while I worked at my computer. He even took apart another doorknob to reverse engineer it and figure out how to pop that lock. All of his efforts were to no avail, though. 

"You know," I mused. "I've always wondered if it's as easy to break a door down as it looks on TV." 

"You don't want to do that," he said. "The door would be expensive to replace." 

"Oh, come on," I urged. "It would be fun." 

"No, I'm not going to break your door." 

His next idea was to call our other neighbor over. Steve had the "key" that had come with his own bathroom lock. Yay! 

...But it was the wrong size. Steve took off to get ready for work, and Neil tried all the tools one more time before admitting defeat. Finally, he asked if I'd mind him knocking the doorknob off if he promised to replace it. 

"Go ahead," I said. "I really need to brush my teeth." (By now it was 2:00 in the afternoon.) 

So I covered my ears and watched him bludgeon that stubborn knob with my pink hammer (compliments of Gentle, who had painted it for me and put it into a cute little toolbox which she'd decorated with an S). 

Neil apologized several times and said he felt like a failure for not being able to open that door, but I assured him that this had been quite an adventure, though I rather wished I'd been the one to smash the doorknob. 

Not only did Neil replace the doorknob a couple of hours later, but he even went to Home Depot to buy it for me. Now that's a good neighbor, and a two-hour hero. 

Though She Stumbles

I've decided not to wash the dishes tonight because I want to share what's in my heart while it's still so beautiful. If only I can find the words... 

Through the month of September I was so happy. Moving into my dream home felt like the start of a wonderful new life. And it was wonderful. I was busy and beyond exhausted with all the moving and then the unpacking, but still I was so happy I had to pinch myself most days.

During this time, I was finished my step study for Celebrate Recovery, a 12-step program I had joined for grief support. I was feeling so good that I thought I probably didn't need CR any more, or my sponsor. I figured I'd go to my graduation and then just move on to other things. I guess I marveled a little at my own strength and how well I had weathered the storm over the last year and a half. But underneath it all was the suspicion that coming out of the storm would bring the end of the special closeness I'd shared with God through it all. "Please, God," I prayed, "I don't want to drift away. I'm so ready to be done with my trial, but I don't want to lose the intimacy I've had with you."

But then I got totally caught up in my busyness and the joy of decorating and shopping and making new friends in the neighborhood. And of course, I started to drift. I first knew there was a problem on the day I thought I lost our cat. As I shared in my last entry, losing Arwen stirred up some deep feelings of rejection and loss, and I found myself angry with God. I knew it wasn't only about a cat.

Just as it always does, the fresh pain caught me completely by surprise and totally knocked the wind out of me. Over the next three weeks, I continued to struggle with sorrow and doubts, and it felt like the gulf between me and God was widening by the day even though I continued to cry out to him, especially in the late night hours as I battled insomnia again for the first time in months.

All along, I knew the reason. It was disobedience and pride. There were things I decided to do, little things on the surface that were big things in my heart. Even though I found myself on my knees in my new prayer closet many, many nights, pouring out my heart in wrenching sobs, I couldn't give over my will to Him even though my heart wanted to. Actually, it wasn't my heart that wanted to obey; it was God's Spirit in me. My heart wanted to go my own way because I was hurting and I felt hopeless.

The enemy whispered to me that I haven't changed at all over the past years of trying to serve God, and I agreed with him. I began to struggle with my self worth just like I did before I knew I was God's Beloved. The worst thing of all was being so disappointed in myself, feeling like I was back at square one and had learned absolutely nothing in the last decade or so. I felt so stupid because of past choices that had led me to not one but two divorces, and stupid over current choices now that I ought to know better.

Okay, so by now you must be wondering where the beauty is. I'm coming to that. For one thing, as stupid as I felt, I've learned some very important things through my struggle:

• A house can't make me happy. I'd realized it back in July, that my home is not a house. But for just a little while, I forgot that. And then a little cat stole my joy, and I realized that I was still so broken, even in my beautiful new house. 
• Even when I am faithless and so disappointed in myself, God keeps right on loving me. I had some of the best prayer times over the last few weeks. I'd been missing my old prayer closet, but I found that God was here in the new closet too! And that made The New House feel like just home.
• When I am weak, the God who created the heavens and the earth is strong enough to protect me. "...I will keep you safe in the palm of my hand. I spread out the heavens and laid foundations for the earth." (Isaiah 50:16b, Contemporary English Version)
• As long as I keep turning to God, I don't have to fall back into my old negative behaviors and thought patterns. "The Lord makes firm the steps of the one who delights in him; though he may stumble, he will not fall, for the Lord upholds him with his hand." (Psalm 37:23-24)
• Above all, I must guard my heart, "for it is the wellspring of life." (Proverbs 4:23) Everything that I am flows from my heart, and if I allow that stream to become polluted the effects will go downstream and affect every area of my life.
• I have not arrived! I still need a lot of healing. But I can feel that God is making something beautiful from my brokenness. It's time to work through my pain and let it go. 

Last night was the breaking point for me. I felt terrified, not safe, overwhelmed. I called my Celebrate Recovery sponsor, whom I still very much need, and she gave me some wise counsel which echoed what I'd been hearing from God that afternoon. I took her advice and turned over all of my will to God (step 3). I prayed, and He showed me what I needed to do. So this morning, first thing, I carried out an act of obedience that I believe will bring benefits beyond what I can imagine. 

That obedience cost me something, and I felt a little sad today even though I had more peace than I've felt in months. On the way to work, I asked God to please fill the emptiness in me. "Could you please show me a special sign of your love today, give me some manna to help me through my day?" 

He first answered through my friend Gentle, who had many encouraging words for me. One thing that I want to remember is her philosophy for home schooling: "Keep calm and expect the unexpected." 

I know I have to expect that things aren't going to go the way I think they will, the way I necessarily want them to. But the unexpected can bring treasures I never imagined. Isn't that exciting?!

When I got home from the office and sat down at my lovely purple desk to finish my work day, something entirely unexpected happened. Over the weeks, our little cat has slowly become more affectionate. I usually work from home, and I could see today that she had missed me. She came up and gave the little squeaky meow that I've learned means, "Pet me!" So I reached down to scratch her head and rub her belly for a few seconds. "Okay, Arwen," I said with a sigh. "I've got more work to do. I can't just sit here and pet you." 

She meowed again, clearly not satisfied. "Sorry, kitty. I've got to work," I repeated. 

After I ignored a couple more pleas, Arwen did something I was told Russian Blues rarely do. She jumped up behind me into my chair and then wrapped herself around me and settled on my lap. My mouth dropped open. "Are you sitting in my lap, kitty-kitty?" I reached down to pet her, but she jumped back down, as if she'd just realized where she was. Less than a minute later, she was back in the chair, back in my lap, back on the floor. And then she did it again, and this time she stayed. 

"Okay, you little scamp. You're not going to let me ignore you, are you?" So I gave her a proper scratch, all the while grinning at this unexpected pleasure. Warmth suffused me as I recognized this as an answer to my morning prayer, a little sign of God's love for me. It was like the time he sent me the dolphin, and the time he told the horse to give me a kiss. 

For the first time in many weeks, I felt a beautiful intimacy with my Shepherd, and my heart blossomed. 

At Celebrate Recovery tonight, we sang a song I've heard dozens of times on the radio without really hearing the words. My heart thrilled to this part: 

Hey now, this is my desire:
Consume me like a fire
Cause I just want something beautiful to touch me -
I know that I'm in reach
'Cause I am down on my knees
Waiting for something beautiful. (Need to Breathe, "Something Beautiful")

Yes! That is exactly what I'm waiting for. I don't know what it is, this unexpected thing, but I know that it will be beautiful. I had realized this before, that God has beautiful plans for me, that there's something amazing around the bend, but I guess I'd forgotten it. And that's why I had lost my joy recently. 

You know what's my favorite part of this story? That God would use the very cat who caused me to question His love to express His love to me. 

That naughty little wonderful cat who climbs on my furniture, stares greedily at the hamster, and tears apart the potted palm that Jackie gave me. 

Yes, that cat. Life is sweet. 

Never So Glad to be Wrong

I've been so excited to share the big news I referred to in my last entry. But the story unfolded a lot differently than I expected. For example, this will give you an idea of how my day went yesterday...

Okay, let's back up a few days--no, a week. Better make it two weeks....

The Saturday before last, we got up early to attend the national Petsmart pet adoption day. I'd been told there would be over a hundred animals up for adoption, so I thought chances were good that we'd find a cat we could all love. When we arrived, they were still getting set up, and there were perhaps ten cats stacked up in cages and carriers. Allyson promptly fell in love with a cute little fluff ball that was delightfully cuddly and playful. But Ethan gave it the cold shoulder. Ever since meeting the cat who lived here before we did, he'd had his heart set on a Russian Blue. Jackie had assured us that they were the best cats, and he was very impressed with hers.

The trouble is, Russian Blues are pretty popular, and there just aren't that many up for adoption, especially kittens. He'd been combing the Internet for weeks, and we'd only found a couple, and they were already spoken for.

"But this kitty is so cute, Ethan! Don't you want to hold it?" Allyson pleaded.

"Nope."

On the ride home, the grumpiness was palpable. Allyson was nearly in tears. Back at the house, she let the tears flow. "Why does ETHAN get to choose the cat? Why can't I have the cat I want?"

I explained for perhaps the dozenth time that Ethan had been begging for a cat for several years longer than she had, and that he may be moving out in just a couple of years when he starts college.

"I can only afford one cat right now, sweetie." I rubbed her heaving shoulders. "Besides, I've never had a cat, and I want to see how we manage one before I take on another. I promise you can pick out the next one, in a year or two. And we can all play with this one."

She sniffled. "Well it's probably gonna be forever before we find one. I don't know why Ethan has to have a Russian Blue."

"I don't know, sweetie. Maybe he'll change his mind."

After Bill had picked Allyson up, I called Gentle and did some whining of my own. "Picking out a cat was supposed to be fun. Instead my kids are fighting, and Allyson is crying her eyes out."

Gentle listened kindly and reminded me to find the treasure in this; it was a good opportunity to show the kids how to deal with disappointment. I repeated Allyson's prediction that it would be forever before we found a cat.

"Just trust God," she said. "He knows where your cat is. And tell Ethan not to settle for any cat but the one he really wants. He'll know when he finds it. If he's meant to have a Russian Blue, you'll find one at just the right time."

I sighed. Yet another lesson in patience. I remembered how hard it had been to wait for the perfect house, and how glad I was that I hadn't settled for something I didn't really want.

Over the next couple of days, I prayed with both kids about finding our cat. I asked God to make Ethan fall in love with the perfect cat for our family, one that would bring us all joy. I asked that He would prepare us to be a blessing to that cat and help us to give it a good home. Allyson and I also prayed that God would help all those cats we'd seen at Petsmart find loving homes.

Three days later, this past Wednesday, Ethan somehow convinced me to go to Petsmart after eight on a school night to pick up a few things just in case we might find a cat that weekend. On the way to the litter boxes, Allyson and I strolled past the adoption window. My jaw dropped when I spotted a Russian Blue kitten. She wasn't as small as Ethan had wanted, but she was gorgeous! The sign on her cage said her name was Reba, and she was six months old.

We both ran to find Ethan, who was looking at rats.

He loved her! Even without holding her, he knew she was the one. "Can we get her tomorrow?" he asked.

I picked up a flyer. "Maybe. I'll call tomorrow," I promised.

After picking out a couple of scratching pads, a fluffy toy on a stick, six fuzzy mice, and a cat bed, we were in high spirits all the way to the car. And then the kids started arguing about names.

"I think I'll name her Arwen," Ethan said.

"Are-when? I've never heard of that name," Allyson said.

"Oh, from Lord of the Rings?" I asked. Ethan nodded. "Nice."

"I've never heard of that name," Allyson repeated. "I don't think I can remember it. What was it again? Ar-what?"

"Arwen."

"How about Farty?" Allyson suggested with a snort.

"Or Gollum," I said.

"Arwen."

"How come he gets to pick out the name?" Allyson whined.

"It's his cat," I said. "But we'll all get to play with her."

That night, I was so excited I could hardly sleep. I couldn't stop smiling. God had brought us the very cat Ethan wanted, just like Gentle said.

I made inquiries first thing Thursday morning and learned that they only do adoptions on Saturdays at Petsmart. The kids were just a wee bit let down when I broke the news to them that evening, but I was a little relieved. This gave me more time to get the cat supplies that my mom, my sister Emily, and my friend Elizabeth were donating.

On Saturday afternoon, Ethan and I set off for Petsmart. (Much to her disappointment, Allyson was unable to come along.) At the store, we met Arwen in a tiny room. She spent much of the next 20 minutes or so trying to find a place to hide, but the volunteer who helped us was able to get her to play. I thought it funny that the urge to play seemed to outweigh Arwen's fear. While we got acquainted, Annette told us what she knew of Arwen's history. The most significant thing we learned was that another family had tried to adopt her during the adoption event the weekend before. She'd been brought in later in the day, so we'd missed her. The other family took her because she looked like the Russian Blue they'd lost recently. But they had to bring her back after two days because she reminded them too much of their old cat, and they couldn't stop crying.

Annette returned her to her cage and gave me some paperwork to fill out. While I worked on it, I listened to several families admiring our cat. "Nope, she's ours," I thought. "God brought her here at just the right time so we could find her." After over an hour and a half, we left the store at last with a little cat in a cardboard box and a giant tub of kitty litter.

Following Annette's advice, we settled Arwen into a small room for the first couple of days--Ethan's. She promptly hid under Ethan's futon, but she did let us crawl under there and pet her; she even purred a bit.

The next morning, Allyson had just a few minutes to get acquainted before church. That was all it took. She was over the moon. We were all ecstatic for two solid days.

And then came yesterday morning. At 7:00, a bleary-eyed Ethan emerged from his room. "Can I sleep in a couple more hours?" he asked. "The cat kept me up all night. She was playing on my window sill. And one time when she tried to jump up there, she missed and fell in her water bowl. She spilled all the water and launched her food all over my carpet."

Two days had passed, so we figured we could let Arwen out. She'd been trying to get out anyway; we'd had to chase her down twice. So we moved the litter box and food bowls into the bathroom, and Ethan scooped Arwen into the hall. She tried to run back inside, but he shut her out.

She stared at the door for a second and then darted into the living room, behind the potted palm, under the couch, and into Allyson's room. She ran under the foot of Allyson's bed and then around and back behind the headboard. With much prodding, I managed to get Allyson ready for school, without a moment to spare. Still, I took the time to close all the bedroom doors and the laundry room door in hopes of keeping Arwen out of trouble.

"Close the door quickly," I urged as we eased out the front door. "Don't let the cat out." I closed the door firmly and pushed the lock button, and then we hurried down the sidewalk without a backward glance.

I left Allyson at the front doors just as the warning bell rang, and then I hurried back. Instead of taking my usual leisurely route through the park, I went back the way we'd come. As I approached the house, my stomach tightened at the thought of the mischief Arwen might have gotten into. Why hadn't I confined her in the bathroom?

Stepping between the storm door and the front door, I punched the code on the lock. The deadbolt whirred, and I pictured a curious kitten on the other side of the door. In one smooth motion, I cracked the door and pulled the storm door shut behind me.

Inside, all was quiet, and everything appeared to be just as I'd left it. "Are-when," I called softly. "Where are you?" If I'd expected her to come bounding to my feet like Lola used to do, I was sadly mistaken. Nothing but the silent house greeted me.

I quickly searched all the rooms that didn't have a closed door: the bathroom, the hall, the living room, and the kitchen. No cat. I laughed nervously. "Are you hiding, kitty? Where are you?"

I lay down on the floor and looked under the chairs, couch, and coffee table. No cat. I looked behind the toilet and in the bathtub. No cat. Then I noticed that the kitty door to the garage was slightly ajar. Whew! She must be in there.... Nope. Not behind the water heater. Not behind the stack of flattened moving boxes. Not underneath the extra dining room chairs. My heart thudded. Could she be... outside? No. I'd been way too careful. I would have seen her.

I threw open the bedroom doors and looked under the beds and behind the dressers. I looked inside the dryer. I looked in the pantry even though the door had been firmly shut. And then I looked everywhere I'd already looked before. And then I searched all those places again.

And then I started to cry. I sobbed out a hurt, angry prayer. "How could you let this happen, God? Haven't we been through enough? Haven't we lost enough? How am I going to tell Allyson that the cat she already loves is GONE? After just two days? And what about the $200 I just spent? Why? Why did this have to happen to us?"

To think I'd been reveling in the thought that God had brought us this cat. Why would He give us the cat Ethan wanted only to allow her to run away two days later? Surely it had been just a coincidence after all, an unfortunate mishap.

I can't even put into words how distraught I was over this cat. It wasn't that I missed her, exactly. No, it was a heart wrenching disappointment over a bitter loss, after such short-lived joy. I felt rejected by the cat, and God too. I felt the way I'd felt about the oleanders when the deal on my first dream house fell through.

I prayed some more and cried a lot more. I asked God to forgive me for blaming Him, asked Him to help me trust that there must be a purpose in this. I told Him I knew all of this grief wasn't just about a cat and asked Him to heal the hurt in my heart. And I thanked Him for understanding that I am just dust, and for loving me even though I am sometimes so faithless despite all He's done for me.

I talked to Mom on the phone, and then Gentle. They both assured me that Arwen must be hiding inside the house somewhere, that cats can hide in the strangest places. But I didn't believe them. I'd searched too thoroughly, and this is not that big of a house, and she is not that small of a kitten.

At 9:30 I woke Ethan, and he helped me search the house again. He had to agree with me that she was gone. So we walked around the neighborhood, but we knew that if she'd truly slipped outside, she was long gone. Unfortunately, Ethan had removed her collar during the night because the bell was keeping him awake. He'd meant to put it back on in the morning, but he'd forgotten.

"If anyone finds such a perfect little cat, they'll keep her," he said.

"Probably so."

After a few more hours, I sent an email to the adoption group, apologizing for losing their cat during the one-week trial and asking if they had any suggestions.

About an hour later, a lady named Michelle called and said that she and Annette were on the way. They were coming to help me search.

"Really?" I said through my tears. "That's awesome." But I felt guilty that they were wasting their gas money (a 45-minute drive each way) on a cat that was clearly not in my house. While I waited, I made the flyer that I posted at the start of this entry.

They came fortified with kitty treats, Arwen's favorite toys, and a recording of kittens mewing, which Michelle said rarely fails to bring a kitten out of hiding. They went all through the house, calling sweetly, "Reba! Here kitty, kitty! Come play with your birdy!" They looked under and behind all the furniture, just as I had done. They also opened all the dresser drawers and shone a flashlight--which I'd borrowed from the neighbors--into the crack next to the dishwasher.

After 15 minutes, Michelle admitted that she was worried. "The kitten sounds usually work. I'm starting to wonder.... Say, did you check that drawer?" She pointed to the coffee table.

"It's probably too small," Annette said.

Nevertheless, I pulled on the knob. And saw gray fur! "Oh my gosh!" I shrieked. "She's in there!" I slid the drawer out very slowly to reveal a drawer clear full of cat, books, and drink coasters. "I think she was stuck," I said. "Oh, if you hadn't come! I NEVER would have thought to look in there."

Annette pulled Arwen into her lap and held her by the scruff, crooning softly to her and petting her head and chest. "It's okay, sweetie. You're okay. You're okay."

They let me feed her some treats, and then they had me put her back in Ethan's room. "It's too soon," Michelle said. "She needs to be in a small place where she feels safe."

After they left, I rushed to Allyson's teacher's conference, so thankful that I came bringing good news--even though Allyson had never known Arwen was missing.

Afterward, I stopped at the neighbors' to return the flashlight. They celebrated with me. They'd seen me crying earlier, and now they saw me laughing. I stayed for over an hour and got to know them better. And then I went home and petted that naughty kitty.

Funny, it was less than a month ago that I relinquished Naughty Dog to Bill (she came with the house). And now I have Naughty Cat to replace her. Good thing that cat is so cute!