Grazing Grace: Nine Lives

By: Greg A. Lane

Ever since my kids were toddlers, my little family has always had cats as pets. I was figuring it up the other day and counted 10 cats by name that we’ve owned in the past 25 years. That’s right, 10 cats – starting with a little kitten we named Sheba and ending with a stray that came to our back door over a year ago that we named Ginger. Poor little Ginger was the nicest cat we’ve ever owned, but she had feline leukemia and we had her euthanized a few months ago. So, this is the first time in 26 years that there hasn’t been a cat at the Lane house. It’s the first time in 26 years that we’ve not had to buy cat food, or go to the vet, or clean up cat vomit, or remove a bird carcass from the back porch, or wash paw prints off our car windshield, or listen to the hacking sound of a cat coughing up a fur ball. Oh, and I forgot to mention, it’s also the first time in 26 years that we’ve not had a kitty cuddle on the couch, or a tender brush of a cat tail against our legs, or the sound of a contented purr in our ear after feeding time. I sure do miss them!

Ten cats in 25 years! You’d think I would forget a few of the names after so many years, but I remember each one distinctly. As I mentioned before, Sheba was our very first cat. She was a kitten when we first got her, and my kids immediately fell in love with her. Sheba eventually had her own litter of kittens. We kept one of the kittens and named her Nala (after the Lion King character). Nala also had a litter of kittens and we kept two of her babies – Tiger and Michael. My seven-year-old daughter named the one Tiger because he was striped similar to a tiger, and my five-year-old son named the other Michael after the name of his best friend at the time. (Remember that name Michael, because he’s the main focus of this article.)

A few years later, my kids were playing in a field near our home and discovered a litter of three abandoned kittens. Thus, the inclusion of Skunky, Midnight and Bikini to the Lane family cat farm! Bikini (so named because of markings on her belly that resembled a bikini) was the shortest-lived cat that we’ve ever owned. She didn’t make it past three months. Oh, you may have wondered about the name Skunky. Well, we didn’t name her that because she stunk. She was black all over except for a white stripe on her belly ... thus the name, Skunky.

In 2009, while on a morning walk, my wife discovered two more abandoned kittens and they were later included into the Lane cat family. The kids named them Bree and Pepperjack. Yes, they were named after cheeses! That makes nine cats, and then Ginger, whom I mentioned earlier, rounded it off to a nice, even total of 10 cats.

I told you earlier to remember one cat in particular – Michael. Now, Michael was the most interesting cat we’ve ever owned. Perhaps you’ve heard the old saying “cats have nine lives.” Well, Michael was the poster child for this saying. Michael was the sickliest cat I’ve ever seen in my life. There were several times throughout his lifespan that we thought he was knocking on death’s door. We’d take him to the vet and they’d say, “We’re not sure what’s wrong with him.” They’d give him a dose of steroids and two days later he’d be walking around like nothing ever happened. He had a long list of ailments. The vet suggested that he might have a kind of Feline AIDS. One especially gross ailment that he had was an infection in his paw that made it bleed frequently. There were times I’d wake up in the morning to find bloody paw prints all over our kitchen floor. It looked like a crime scene!

Knowing how sickly Michael was, we all sort of held our breath every time he had to be taken to the vet, wondering if this would be his final trip. He fooled us, time and again.

As if his frequent ailments weren’t enough, he was attacked by pit bulls right on our back porch one night. I heard the ruckus in the middle of the night and ran to the back door, expecting the worst. After all, in his sickly state, Michael didn’t have the strength to fight off a pack of dogs, or to even climb a tree to safety. I ran the dogs off and began to look for Michael. Somehow, he was able to muster the strength to climb the lattice surrounding our back porch. He was clinging on for dear life. He’d made it through another close brush with death.

One morning, my wife and I were taking a morning walk together and we saw a dead cat in the middle of the road. It looked exactly like Michael. We looked him over thoroughly. He was the same color and had the same markings as Michael. I looked at my wife and said something like, “Well, death has finally caught up with Michael.” I went to our house and got a plastic bag to carry him in. Our kids were still asleep, so we weren’t going to tell them about Michael’s demise, but my daughter woke up and saw me with the bag in my hand. I had to tell her the truth ... “Michael is dead. He got run over by a car.” My daughter boo-hooed.

I scooped Michael’s lifeless body into the bag and carried him to some land we own down the road from our house. Several of our pets are buried on this property and Michael was about to join them. My daughter wanted to come along for the burial. My son was still asleep in bed, so my wife stayed home.

I dug the hole for Michael’s grave, placed the body in the hole and then held my daughter tightly as we both wept over the grave. We both recounted memories of our beloved, sickly cat. We spoke words of love and appreciation for him. It was a touching moment. I covered the grave and we returned home.

By the time we got back home, my son had awakened and my wife had already told him the bad news about Michael’s death. The house was quiet for over an hour as each of us mourned in our own way.

A couple of hours later, while I was working at my computer, I heard my son call out, “Dad, I thought you said you buried Michael.” I replied, “Yes, he’s buried down at the land.” To which my son replied, “Then, who is this standing at our back door?” I ran to the back door and there stood Michael, meowing and pawing at the window. That wasn’t Michael we just buried. That wasn’t Michael that we just spoke loving words over and wept over ... that was somebody else’s cat!! I suppose we rejoiced almost as much that morning as Mary and Martha did the day that Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead! Yes, to us, Michael had risen from the dead. He had seemingly cheated death yet another time.

The rest of the story? Michael lived to a ripe old age of 13. He outlived all of our other cats. He came close to death’s door so frequently that we had to change the saying from “cats have nine lives” to “cats have ten lives.”

This reminds me of what the apostle Paul said in 2 Corinthians 4:8-9: “We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed” (New International Version). Those who put their hope and trust in God have an incredible resiliency. Their faith keeps them going strong while others, who experience similar hardship, grow weary and faint at the simplest of life’s adversities. Proverbs 24:16, in the New Living Translation, says, “The godly may trip seven times, but they will get up again. But one disaster is enough to overthrow the wicked.”

As I mentioned, Michael went through more difficulties and illnesses than all of our other cats combined, but he outlived them all. Everyone has moments of adversity and tribulation in their life. No one is exempt from this fact. The question is: How do you handle life’s moments of adversity? If you take a spill and face a seeming defeat, do you sit and wallow in self-pity or do you get back up and brush yourself off so you can face another day? Cats may have “nine lives” but you and I only have one, and the length and fullness of our life will be determined by the way we handle life’s troubles. Remember, Jesus said, “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world” (John 16:33).

Bree (pictured here) was one of five abandoned kittens adopted by the Lane family over the years.

Michael (pictured here) had a very sickly appearance throughout his lifespan. Even though he definitely wasn’t a beautiful cat, he was well-loved by the Lane children, enjoying times of snuggling and lap-sitting. He was a prime example of the old adage “Beauty is only skin deep.”