Pi is his name

I buried my kitten on the eve of my birthday. He died exactly 2 weeks after I accepted him from my    street-son who had plucked him up from a road divider. It took us a week to agree on a name for the kitten. We called him Pi, because it went along nicely with the name of our other cat, Maffin. (as in Muffin and Pie)

The vet said 1 month old Pi was  under-developed for his age; indeed he was all bones, so small he fitted into the palm of my hand. But he seemed to thrive - he was eating, mewing, exploring, pooping all over the place.  I had bathed him and left him to sleep.  After some 4 hours, by which time it was late evening, I thought it very strange he hadn't woken up. He looked funny when I checked on him, he had wetted himself under his towel and his limbs were cold to my touch. By the time we rushed him to the 24hr animal hospital that night, he was very weak. The doctor's diagnosis was fading kitten syndrome. He was put on emergency drip and into critical (equivalent of human ICU) care.

I had never heard of fading kitten syndrome. Apparently it's a common condition in young kittens who don't get any/enough of mother cat's milk - it affects their immune system and because they are so young, they become very susceptible to bacteria, infections and all those nasty stuff.   From the start the doctor had warned Pi's prognosis was poor and bound to fluctuate. She could only say it would be 'touch-n-go' , as all they could do was try to boost up his immunity and manage his dehydration from diarrhea. The rest was really up to Pi to fight it out.

It's only a kitten. But I found myself crying in the car as we drove back. I remembered the serious charge given to me when I took the box containing this "little thing"  from the hands of my son two weeks ago - I was to take care of him, give him a good home. And I struggled to accept the worst that could happen and why God would give me something beautiful only to take it away after such a short while.  It's not only a kitten, it's a life. It may not be worth much or anything to anyone else, - not even to its mother - but it's still a life and it was entrusted to me.  In the midst of tears, the words of Job, the long-suffering hero of the Old Testament, who lost everything - cattle, sheep, donkeys, camels, servants, 7 sons and 3 daughters - came to me, “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return. The LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD " (Job 1:21) 

Job, a man the Bible called "blameless and upright, one who feared God and turned away from evil"
reacted to the most catastrophic of losses - which God allowed to happen - with the most profound insight. It wasn't that he was weird or unfeeling - in fact he grieved so much he tore his robe, shaved his head, fell to the ground. But in the suffering and the pain, he recognized one thing - in the midst of WHAT can happen, there is a WHO in charge. In short, he knows - and most importantly he accepts - life isn't in our hands. Not our own, not others, not even a little kitten's. So choking back my tears, as my daughter drove, I prayed surrendering Pi into his Creator's hands, because Pi is not mine, even my children are really not mine. All I have on this earth is given unto me to hold, to love, to care for and ultimately to let go of, not as/when I want it to happen, but in accordance to a divine time-table of which I know nothing of, but must trust that the One who is Maker of heaven and earth - from whom, through whom and to whom are all things - knows what He is doing, even when I disagree. So if Pi lives, he lives. If he dies, he dies. And it struck me, if I can cry over a little kitten's life, how much more God Himself must grieve over the state of all humans - we, the crown of His creation, who instead of enjoying life as He meant it to be, just mess around trying and thinking we can manage life on our own.

I was planning to take Pi home after 2 nights in hospital, as the last time I saw him, although still weak, he had moved and mewed a little. His glucose level however was yo-yo-ing from low to normal back to low. Anyhow we were all prepared to rotate taking care of him at home. The next morning, I saw 5 missed calls from the hospital when I switched on my phone; my heart already knew Pi had died.

It being a Sunday, I went to church. In the midst of grief, like Job, I blessed the name of the Lord, my God... For those 2 weeks of having Pi waddling around the house (he's so needy he 'chases' human legs when any of us are around him) , little Pi eating from and sleeping in my hand.  I return his stiff body into the ground, from dust to dust, ashes to ashes. And I thank my God, because today I am still alive, my children are still alive, my friends are still alive, because He is gracious to let us all live another day, and another and another.  That despite some who refuse to accept His sovereignty, in spite of how we rail at Him for daring to take away ''our'' ...cat, dog, family, friend, partner, health, wealth... whatever/whoever.

I used to be like that, not understanding why/how could a good God (seemingly) do nothing about all the death, suffering, evil, bad, unfair, things going on in this world, if He is so so great? He didn't miraculously cure my husband of cancer, I was made a widow at age 40, my children grew up without an earthly father. There's nothing good about any of that. I still remember the anger I felt at losing my husband, despite all the prayers prayed, all the tears cried in private. Anger at a God who would take away the love of my life, the father of my children. And I remember how gentle He was in answering my "Why? How could You?"  The great Almighty God  could have roasted me with a lightning-bolt for daring to question Him. He could have rejected me altogether. But He didn't.  Instead He answered my questions with a question; He simply said, " My child, I have given your husband the best gift, what more do you want?" Such love - He called me His 'child.' It took me awhile to figure out what He meant, but I 'got' it, finally.  Truly He has given His best, by Jesus laying down His own life to cancel out death's claim on us all, sinners without exception.

So it is, 17 years down the line, and until I breathe my last on this earth, like Job and countless others who have believed, accepted and therefore received the best from a good God, I will bless the Lord. In the meantime, I think I will lay off accepting any more stray kittens.


"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11