I often joke that Susie and Delia won the “cat lottery” when they were rescued and came home to live with us. Twelve years later, I’m convinced of it. They are counted among the few cats in Brooklyn who have their own private bathroom (thanks to our now empty nest). But over time, I’m not sure if Michael and I weren’t really the ones rescued instead.
Our two little girls were sitting in a kill-shelter somewhere in Tennessee with their mother when I went onto Petfinder to look for a Maine Coon, convinced that we should go in a feline designer direction like dog owners’ trends to hand pick a Bichou Frise or Labadoodle.
Michael, a purist, scoffed at the notion of “pedigree” separating any cat into “common” and “elite”.
“Why would we do that when there are so many rescue cats to choose from instead?”
Now I agree. That free choice adds something to a cat’s mystique. Through the ages, there’s little about a cat that’s been touched by human hand. Cats remain solely God’s creation. Solely touched by His hand.
And I think that’s what captured our hearts. Susie’s and Delia’s uniqueness. They weren’t cookie cutter squares. Not pre-selected personality types. Designer powder puffs. Or pugilistic thugs. Delia’s lush Maine Coon coat, a bit too long and tail, too short for cat show prizes. And how lovely Susie’s ordinariness. Such a plain but elegant Tabby. The ubiquitous house cat with such a vivacious personality. What an endearing face.
Who would want a breeder’s limited vision when we got God’s unique design?
I’ve had many choices in life. Some right. Some wrong. Always better when I call God in.
Susie and Delia–definitely two of the better ones.
Divinely chosen. Divinely arranged.
“You will indeed drink my cup, but to sit at my right hand and at my left, this is not mine to grant, but it is for those for whom it has been prepared by my Father.”