Mousey!

It is the Lord’s day. Imagine my surprise when I saw a cute little mouse withering about in the hallway in plain view. He squeaked in pain. I can only assume he ate the poison the landlord left him. The poor cutter just stopped after a while and stared at me wide-eyed. “Come here, mousey!” I cajoled. His long tail laid flaccid. He just stared.

My roommate disposed of him. Since she’s vegan, she probably spared what was left of his life. He probably spent the remainder of his day basking in the Spring sun on the cool grass, before a bird took him. 

It’s hard to measure the life and value of living things. All of God’s Creation reflect His glory. Death diminishes it. Death forces us to judge it, appraise it. What was God’s purpose in creating Mousey? What was His purpose for killing him? 

His Mystery is deeper than the sea and higher than the heavens.

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Mousey!

It is the Lord’s day. Imagine my surprise when I saw a cute little mouse withering about in the hallway in plain view. He squeaked in pain. I can only assume he ate the poison the landlord left him. The poor cutter just stopped after a while and stared at me wide-eyed. “Come here, mousey!” I cajoled. His long tail laid flaccid. He just stared.

My roommate disposed of him. Since she’s vegan, she probably spared what was left of his life. He probably spent the remainder of his day basking in the Spring sun on the cool grass, before a bird took him. 

It’s hard to measure the life and value of living things. All of God’s Creation reflect His glory. Death diminishes it. Death forces us to judge it, appraise it. What was God’s purpose in creating Mousey? What was His purpose for killing him? 

His Mystery is deeper than the sea and higher than the heavens.

Call me “Meow”….

A friend once asked why it is that I pretend to be a cat. I replied that in my loneliest and worst moments, I only had a cat to comfort me. It was not necessarily my cat. It usually was some random stranger’s who happened to live nearby.  They would snuggle in my lap, lick my face, watch T.V. with me, crawl under my couch for the shade when the temperature outside was over 100 degrees and had to be forcefully yanked out, or take a dump in front of my door when I refused to let them in.

This blog is dedicated to my lost cat, Oreo, who ran away from home in the Summer of 2008.  Here’s a “Meow” to you Oreo and all the unsung hero cats out there.

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