Last week our neighbor, Sam, rescued a dog from the animal shelter. The first time I saw T-Bone, a black and white boxer, he was playing catch with his new owner in the backyard. Not sure if the dog was a new family member or Sam was pet sitting, I called out. T-Bone ran over to the fence, tail wagging, slobbering as I petted his head. I could tell he was overjoyed. His death sentence at the pound had turned into a new lease on life. Sam beamed, too. "Life needs to have some fun," he told me.
I wondered how his orange tabby was adjusting. "How's Princess with the new dog?" I asked.
"PRINCESS!?" He laughed. "Oh... you mean Francis!"
"No wonder he looks insulted when I call his name." I chuckled.
My own cat paradigm collapsed as I then began to question the gender of our two stray lovable cats, Mr. Paws and Cleo, who, many months ago had taken up residence on our patio. Since Princess (Francis) would often visit our yard to hang out, Cleo would react jealously, chasing the orange and white cat away while Mr. Paws sat idly by observing the ruckus. So... if Princess was not a female, then perhaps the lovely Cleo was a male, and Mr. Paws... suddenly was a Mrs.?
I looked at our two gray tabbies. Who is who?
I'm sure the angels were amused as I learned a big lesson. I began to understand that it's not about the form, but the content. And the Love of God is in everything. In the end, I guess it doesn't really matter what they are called as long as they are loved for who they are; an expression of God's love in the world.
Our indoor cat, Angel, watches from the laundry room window. She could set me straight, if only she could talk, but I'm not sure it matters.
Enjoy your day with the Angels.
Blessings,
Rae Karen
