Farewell, Old Friend
Often a bit cantankerous, she had a gentle side as well. And despite an obvious feebleness in her last days, she was ever faithful in carrying out the earthly duties assigned to her. She always met me with a warm greeting, anticipating a little kindness and tenderness in return. I'm ashamed to say that I often failed to reward those genuine overtures; it would have taken so little effort.
We have a way of thinking that life will always go on, that opportunities to do the right things will never end, that tomorrow we'll do this or that. But her demise says otherwise.
Pets have played a major role in our lives, and each death brings a bit of sadness. Old Ooza Puddy Too's was no exception.
Even as a cat she taught us a lot. Her contrary ways stretched our patience, painting a picture in miniature of similar interactions with disagreeable people. Yet of such tolerance some would say, "Why bother? After all, they're only animals." It's never a surprise to me when those who exhibit such disdain also run a bit roughshod in their human relationships.
Don't get me wrong; we are to exercise dominion over animals, and human needs take precedence. But dominion and harshness are not the same; neither is compassion an indicator of weakness. Paraphrasing King Solomon, "A good man takes care of his animals...." Better not to take on a responsibility than be sloppy at it.
The quick passages that pets make through life should sober us a bit. That universal system of justice that keeps books on us all might -- just might --reckon more to their accounts than some would suspect. They've rendered faithful, loyal, uncomplaining service...and brought a lot of pleasure and happiness in the process.
Advancing years, declining health, and dwindling resources have an irresistible way of turning life's tables so that even the strongest and most defiant become weak and dependent. Before that happens, wouldn't it be better to learn to have compassion for all that depend upon us ... people and animals? If we don't, those reversed roles may not be too comfortable when we need compassion ourselves.
Farewell, old friend! We'll miss you!
WHEN SPARROWS FALL
I find it hard to think at all
That He who knows when sparrows fall
And gives the animals their breath
Would lack compassion in their death.
For some have filled a noble role,
Provided pleasure and consoled,
By giving love without demands,
Ignoring harshness by our hands.
Could not the King who transcends all,
The One who knows when sparrows fall,
Extend to them some small delight
By showing feeling for their plight?
Copyright 1998 James McAlister
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