What's Up With That?

I'm sitting here in my dining room and I am wiped out...wiped out emotionally.  I just came back in from burying our cat, Casper, in the back yard.  Casper was a seven year old cat, with all white fur and just a spot of black between his ears (our friend Ken called him "Gorby" because of the spot on Casper's head similar to Gorbachev). Casper had one blue eye and one gold one and he was quite a handsome kitty.

He was a smart and persistent cat.  His ritual would be to wake someone up every morning when he wanted to be fed.  He'd find something to make noise with.  If there were any envelopes on the nightstand, he'd bat them off one by one checking to see if you flinched in between each one.  He'd clank the water bowl, move papers around, and knock water cups over. He'd jump onto the bed and sit right by my side and lightly tap my face with his paw as if to say "Hello?  You can wake up now!"  He'd try anything, until you finally gave up and fed the guy.

As annoyed as I used to get, I'd give anything to have him bothering me again.  As much as I pretended not to, I loved Casper.  I loved him a lot.  He was a gift to us and I am grateful to God for giving us the privilege of sharing time with Casper.

I'm sure there is a lesson in all of this for me, for all of us, but it hurts too much to think about that now.  I know and really with all my heart believe that Casper is being cared for now and he is okay.