A classy cat

After Houdini, where do we go?

I'll keep this short. We're trying to figure out where we go from here. And, frankly, his passing leaves us at loose ends. "Our senior cat, Houdini was called by our Creator. There are mice to be caught in Heaven, and apparently his work here was done." So I started "In Memory", which I ask you to read.

In the wake of Houdini's passing, the patterns of life have rearranged themselves. There is still order, but it remains yet unfamiliar.

Missy Diamond, the midnight jelliicle, doesn't know what to do now that she's the senior cat. She wonders when her hold on the throne will be unseated—when the gray guy will resume his reign. Drives us nuts, crying for extra attention, searching all over for Houdini, sleeping in his reserved spot in the middle of the bed.

Troy, stoic, uncommunicative Troy … we can tell his loss is deeper than he'll ever have words for. He won't talk about it but he's taken to going for long walks in the middle of the night, when before he would have scooped up his cat and laid on the couch until Houdini's purr lulled them both to sleep. Randomly opens the front door for no reason at all, as if expecting Houdini to come shooting characteristically across the lawn.

Terri, too, opens the door for Houdini—and then grins sheepishly at her action. And confesses to hearing him calling, like he used to, waiting impatiently outside for us to bow to his highness. But he's not there, only his voice echoing in our memories.

I … hate to admit it … ummm … well, at night after work, when I pull into the driveway—there are green eyes under Troy's car, shining in my headlights. He's waiting, right where he always did, waiting to sprint ahead of me to the front door. But when I kneel to look, all I see is the glint of the muffler.

Hannah's the youngest and least affected—well, except that Troy immediately adopted her cat (Diamond, who seems quite charmed by this new arrangement). When we get to the time of picking a new cat, it may be Hannah who does the choosing. The folks at the Humane Society say they need more generous humans to adopt their overflow of loving animals.

We received a lovely hand-written sympathy card from the vet, signed by all the staff. "We're so sorry about Houdini … I am so sorry for your loss … I only knew him a short time but I could tell he was well loved. I know he will be missed."

Missed! And he will be. In the 9½ years Houdini lived with us (from birth to death), he earned the right to be missed. He won his place in our home—and in our hearts. He earned his place in heaven. I pray that we humans serve the Lord well enough to eventually reunite with Mister Cat. Again, I invite you to read "In Memory."