My favourite cat was put down 2 days ago. I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye or give her a last pat. Uggy 'belongs' to my no. 2 princess; she had been sick for the past week, just lying around listlessly. It's quite unlike her, normally she would follow me downstairs to the kitchen first thing in the morning or sit by my feet at dinner time. Like the queen of the house she is, she mews her 'feed me' command on cue. She would look up with expectant eyes or even stretch to stand on her paws for tidbits from the table. But lately she wasn't eating/drinking, had lost a lot of weight, and had turned all born-thin and scraggly.The vet's diagnosis was old age - she's 112 in human years - and kidney failure. Incurable. So my girl made the call there and then. All I got was a short watsapp message that she had buried Uggy in the back garden. Uggy was the gentlest of our 3 cats; ever ready and responsive to being petted. We never had any trouble with Uggy. Quite the opposite of the other 2 felines, Zaza and Maffin, who are prone to wandering off on their own jaunts outside, Uggy was always at home, snoozing in her fave spots in the laundry baskets, my rocking chair or our beds. She was the last of the litter that our first cat birthed more than 15 years ago, when my husband was still alive. I named her Uggy, a twist of 'ugly' because she really isn't a very pretty cat. But what she lacked in looks, she more than made up for in her sweet disposition.
Only pet-lovers will understand the feeling of losing a much-loved pet. Our family has reared pets ever since I can remember. Our back-yard is a pet cemetery in itself. Underneath the green green grass of home lie the remains of several cats, birds and fishes. Excessively adventurous rabbits and tortoises have disappeared down our drains.
Uggy's passing wasn't really a surprise; she is after all very old. But I always thought Zaza would be the first to go. She's always been the 'wild' one in the family, not to mention the grouchiest; she even bites the hand that feeds her. At one time she was (mis) diagnosed with feline HIV, and we were expecting her to die. But Zaza's a fighter. For all her frequent bouts of sicknesses, even with having problems eating due to recurring gingivitis in her mouth, she is still very much alive. She must be the one with the proverbial 9 lives.
Well, Uggy has used up all hers. The finality of her death stares at me when I look out my kitchen window at the 2 pots placed over her grave. Just like 15 years ago, when I dropped the urn containing my husband's ashes into the sea off Penang beach, and every nite since then, the space beside me on the bed remains cold and empty - on earth, we are constantly reminded that death reigns over animals and humans. When it happens, we go through the 'necessary' process of grieving, closure, moving on, surviving. Some people shrug it off in bravado, as no 'big deal'. But death is a big deal. Whether we admit it or not, instinctively our hearts recoil at its repugnancy.
We do all we can to avoid dying. In fact, babies are born with closed fists, literally clutching at life.We eat wholesome food, swallow supplements, exercise diligently in efforts to stay healthy and live 'well'. We pay for our bodies to be poked and probed regularly so we can 'catch' (and hopefully cure) whatever disease that reduces our chances of living a 'good' long life. We get worked up and anxious over anything that threatens our existence, like being possible targets of robbers, rapists, thieves and terrorists. As far as possible, we try to postpone that dreaded appointment with the Grim Reaper of our soul.
All the efforts underscore what the Bible states as a fact... God "has set eternity in the human heart" (Ecc 3:11); mankind was indeed created to live forever and not die. That's why we will always feel the loss of a loved one. The goodbye of death is a parting that should never have been because it was never in God's beautiful plan for mankind's destiny. Even in death on top of condolences we add the RIP postscript, which obviously postulates the deceased has gone 'somewhere' where the living cannot go.
And that's why the Christian faith can be such a comfort. There can be no greater security in facing death than being able to rest on the promise of Jesus Himself, that "The one who believes in me will live, even though they die;and whoever lives by believing in me will never die " (John 11:25-26). The God I choose to believe in doesn't keep me guessing where I go the second I breathe my last on earth. I will not be in a vague heaven "somewhere over the rainbow" floating in outer-space or worse in that furnace called hell where ‘the worms that eat them do not die, and the fire is not quenched" (Mark 9:48) . I will simply be where I have always been meant to be - living forevermore in the presence of my Maker, who loves me. And what's more, I get to say hello again to those beloved believers who have gone ahead before me; my husband, father, brother-in-law, that drug-addict, the prostitute I used to meet at every Saturday street-feeding, friends from long ago..... oh, comfort of all comforts, I am more than happy to die, when my time on earth is up, having this blessed hope of a grand reunion to look forward to, knowing death can't hold me down. Knowing it's not dependent on how good I am or what I can do on earth, but how good my Jesus is, in having done all that is needed - dying for me, so that I am free to live an abundant life physically, emotionally and spiritually, now and forever, by and in the power of His resurrection.
But the atheists and sceptics mock...what if all that hype is nothing but a fanciful tale, a false ideal cooked up by 'religionists' ? What if it turns out my faith is but a blind leap in the dark, and there is no God to catch me when I die, after all I have believed? Well, nothing venture nothing gain. I'd rather take the risk to leap into the greatest adventure of all time, putting my confidence in the promises of a God who has proved Himself ever faithful through every season of my life on earth so far. It's way better than staying stuck on the ledge of a life with nothing to look forward to except a death that ends everything in goodbye.
"My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am." - John 14:2-3
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