Up From the Grave, He Arose

Yesterday as I opened the front door to take a look at the frozen tundra that is our front yard, our fluffy, black cat Max came meowing towards me. As usual, he had chosen to spend a chilly night outdoors as opposed to being locked inside our cozy house. I wrapped him in a big towel and brought him in to be cuddled by my son. I knew that would warm him up.

Max and Kellen have always had a special relationship, which I'll write about at another time. This time I'll tell you about the day we buried Max. It was a rainy June day shortly after the kids got home from school. There was a knock at the door and I opened it to find the stricken face of my next door neighbor. She asked me carefully if I had seen Max lately. I thought for a second and said that I hadn't. This wasn't at all unusual as Max has an outdoor life that's all his own. Often he will lurk about under shrubs or lounge under the gigantic cedar tree across the street which has branches low to the ground where he can lie undetected. We also suspect that he may have another family or two who lets him in their house and feeds him better food then he can get at home. Who could resist? Max has an incredibly amiable personality, more like a friendly dog, then a snooty cat.

When my neighbor heard my answer, her face looked even more alarmed and she hestantly told me that her husband had called her crying while on his way to work. He was driving down the highway a couple of blocks from our houses and had seen a dead, black cat on the side of the road. He was pretty sure it was Max. My heart froze and refused to beat for a moment or two.

My brave 17 year old daughter offered to go with our neighbor and see if it was Max, while I paced through the house trying to busy myself so as not to think. About fifteen minutes later my tearful daughter returned carrying a piece of cardboard with a very wet, very dead, black cat sprawled over it. She went out into the backyard and buried it under our large cherry tree. She then sat on the car, in the rain and had a ceremony for Max with songs and scriptures.

Meanwhile, I was in the house grieving. I was wracking my brain trying to figure out what I should say to Kellen and when I should say it. He seemed totally oblivous to the ceremony in the backyard only yards beyond the window behind the couch where he sat watching television. I don't know what he understood about death and its permanence. I reflected on their incredibly close relationship. Max was the one true friend who was always there for Kellen in good times and in bad. The one friend who didn't care if Kellen could communicate verbally, or not. I couldn't imagine how that could end so quickly. For the time being, I chose not to tell him anything until I had enough brain cells working to plan a strategy.

I called my husband at work and relunctantly told him the horrible news. Then I crawled into bed with a box of Kleenex and cried and cried. A couple of hours later, I pulled myself together enough to get on the computer and start emailing my friends for sympathy. I didn't feel up to talking to anyone on the phone just yet. I heard the door open and looked up to see my husband walking into the house with a very alive Max in his arms! I was so startled to see Max that I jumped out of my chair and across the room. I literally felt like I had seen a ghost cat. One who most have crawled from his grave, licked himself clean and ran to meet my husband as he pulled into the driveway.

Yes, it was someone else's unfortunate fluffy, black cat. It wasn't Max.

You know how when you've lost someone you think, "How can it be true? I just saw him yesterday. Please, please, God, don't let it be true. Bring him back." Then your heart faces the reality of it. Yes, they are gone and there is no changing that. They are gone and they're not ever coming back. I felt like somehow God heard my internal plea. He knew that we couldn't face losing Max, not yet. He knew how important Max was to our entire family, but especially Kellen. He knew that Max hadn't finished his mission of comfort, here on Earth.

We opened a big can of tuna and Max quietly ate his fill. I'm sure he was wondering, "What'd I do? What'd I do?". Kellen was none the wiser. Overjoyed, we went out for pizza at Kellen's favorite restaurant and laughed until we cried...again.