We know one another reasonably
well. We ought to, after years together. One of the things I try to impress time
and time again is the need for dialogue, healing, and love within the family.
We can’t expect to find harmony in the community, or the world if there is no
harmony in our small, micro orbit.
When, years ago, a small plaintive sound
was heard on my front step I knew something ominous was about to occur. I just
didn’t know how life would change so quickly.
It turns out that a small black kitten had
found its way to our home. Making tiny throaty noises it painfully asked for
food and succor. We gave both, in abundance.
The kitten moved into the house bringing
with it a litter box, countless toys, sheds of once venerated fabric on chairs
and couches, smelly open cans of cat food and the most strange noises next to
my head around four a.m.
Not that I am complaining. The fact that
half my family remained allergic to cat dander has nothing to do with this
article. Nor does the fact that a bunch of kids and one cat makes for some
unusual reactions in my house around 6:30 each evening. A new love object entered
our lives.
I happen to be a big fan of animals. I
love dogs. Had quite a few of them over the years. They were my best friends
growing up.( Did you know that my first pulpit was in a small English town
called Barkingside? No joke.)
What worried me was that the cat becomes
the equivalent of a house member. I have had more than a single argument with
members of the congregation on the differences between a human and an animal.
Some tenderhearted, well-intentioned people are under the misapprehension that
animals and people have the same value. Oy.
It is a disturbing fact that only a little
“ t “ separates a rabbit from a rabbi. And secretaries seem not to keep the two
distinct even with spell check. As Alfred E. Neuman once said, “What? Me
worry? “