A Complete Resurrection
While our family are big animal lovers, we particularly like cats. We’re not against dogs. We just happen to prefer cats.
We have a self-imposed limit of no more than three cats in our house. Part if this is basic home economics. It also hedges us against attaining “crazy cat person” status. Contrary to conventional wisdom, this label can be derived analytically. In fact, you are a crazy cat person if your lifestyle falls within the region above the line on the chart below:
(You’re welcome.)
Frequently, the kids would exploit a loophole in the three-cat limit by temporarily fostering kittens from the local shelter. Fostering kittens serves to get them out of the animal shelter when they’re most susceptible to sickness. It also helps to socialize them and make them less fearful of humans and more adoptable. Once they reach the magical 3 pounds and 6 ounces, they’re taken back to the shelter. While Huntsville seems to generate a lot of shelter cats, it also has a steady supply of people who adopt. Cats around here don’t stay in the shelter very long.
Over the years the kids have fostered dozens of kittens. Occasionally, there’s what’s called a “foster fail”. This is when we fall in love with a foster cat so much that we end up adopting it ourselves. This has happened at least twice, most recently with a special needs kitten we named Moogie.
Moogie suffered from a genetic condition known as Manx syndrome. Cats with this condition are not only missing their tail, but the last few vertebrae of the spinal cord. This makes walking difficult. It can also cause incontinence (due to a lack of sensation in bladder and colon). Because we knew few people would want her (and because we have such a big heart for special needs animals), we decided to keep that little grey and white furball and let our home be her “forever” home. Of course, this violated our three-cat limit. But we decided it was a forgivable breach protocol given the circumstances.
And so, our adventure began.
Of course, the first several months with Moogie were difficult. While her condition didn’t really cause any pain, she did need a lot of special care. This included frequent washing of the hindquarters, buying special cat food and digestive supplements, and investing in washable bed pads. We had to spot clean the carpet regularly.
Aside from that, she could get pretty smelly. The only thing worse than a smelly cat was a smelly cat that loved you and wanted to be around you. When she would get tired from playing around the house, she would want to take a nap. Unsatisfied with the normal sleeping places, she would want to be picked up and put on one of my knees. There she would fall asleep.
It’s during those early months that I think we bonded.
In the following months, a couple of things happened. First, she got to the point that she was able to control her bladder all except while she was sleeping. (This was a huge relief as she finally began to smell like a ‘normal’ cat.) Second, she began to demonstrate characteristics that were unusual for a normal cat. It’s difficult to explain except to say that Moogie was… different. She wasn’t like the other cats. All that I can say is that whatever abilities she lost due to her genetic condition, seemed to have been made up in personality. After doing some research, we leaned that Manx cats do seem to be a cut above the average cat in the intelligence department.
Moogie loved to play fetch. It didn’t matter what it was—be it a toy or a rolled-up piece of carpet tape—if I threw it, she would run and chase it.
If she was in the mood to play, she would run back and forth on the couch in order to get my attention to try to get me to chase and wrestle her. She and I would regularly make a game of chasing each other around the house—even engaging in some occasional hide-and-seek.
She wouldn’t lie down like a normal cat. Her most relaxed position would be on her belly with both legs stretched out directly behind her, often while her front legs were dangled on the edge of a table or couch cushion. This always looked so unnatural and ridiculous that it made us laugh.
While some cats spend their entire day under the bed, away from humans, Moogie was a social cat. No matter what we were doing, she would always want to be nearby and hang out with us to “be involved” in some way.
Like most cats, she loved Christmas. There was great joy that comes by running through a pile of discarded wrapping paper and sleeping under the tree amid the gifts, (or knocking the occasional bulb off the tree).
Like most cats with Manx syndrome, she rarely meowed. Instead, she would offer a loving “crackle” in response to when I tilted my head a certain way. (No matter how hard others in my family tried, she would only respond this way to me.)
Occasionally, I would have to collect all the toys she had lost under our living room sectional. My retrieving the yardstick from the closet was her cue to head to the couch and start pointing out all the places where she had lost her poof-ball toys.
In just about every respect, she was a dog (except that she was a cat). While I had grown up around pets, I never had one as fun and enjoyable as Moogie. You’ve heard the joke about men who didn’t want a cat only to develop a really close bond. Well, I can confirm that joke as reality.
She was my Goose and I was her Maverick.
Despite her health issues, she was without a doubt the best pet I could have asked for. A thoroughly fun member of the family that we would enjoy for years.
Or at least that’s what we thought.
A few months ago, we noticed a change in her disposition. After taking her to the vet, they gently reminded us that cats with Manx syndrome do not live a normally long life. There is no cure for their condition. It simply worsens and they eventually have to be euthanized.
Needless to say, we were devastated. We had only adopted Moogie two years ago. It didn’t seem fair, but there was nothing we could do. While she was in no pain, the difficulty she had when walking told the vet that parts of her nervous system were shutting down, and it was happening quickly.
Within a week of the prognosis, we made that miserable trip to veterinarian. The family gathered to say their goodbyes, pray, and comfort one another while I got to play fetch with her one last time. When the deed was done, we took her home. I dug a place in the back yard and lovingly lowered her into it along with her favorite poof ball. We prayed and said our goodbyes before laying her to rest.
I cried for weeks. Occasionally, I still do.
If you’ve ever been close to a pet that you’ve had to let go of, you understand what I’m saying. Whether it’s a dog, a gerbil, or a goldfish: Pets are family. This is especially true for those of us who have been blessed (or cursed) with a tender heart.
To be clear, I don’t value animal life anywhere close to human life. I don’t consider myself an ‘animal rights’ advocate, however, I’m strongly against abuse. Some animals are more aware than others. Whether through abuse or natural circumstances, the pain and misery they fell is real. To me, there’s something distinctively heartbreaking about it. Whereas humanity has the hope of resurrection, is there any ultimate reconciliation for the suffering of the rest of creation?
Well, I think the answer to that is yes.
Let me explain…
Throughout this ordeal, the Lord has been speaking to me though this loss by revealing what might be a deeper truth about our hope and His glory. I’ve got a theory. I could be completely wrong about it and I’m open to correction, but hear me out.
In the post Rediscovering Our Hope, we talked about the ultimate Christian hope found in future bodily resurrection. Not only will we live forever, but we will live forever with our Lord who has literally spent an eternity pursuing us through all the muck of history to secure our fellowship once and fall. Our hope rests in a future event where there will be a union of heaven and earth where creation itself will be made new. Creation also waits for this event since there’s something in it for them.
For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God. For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now.
Romans 8:19-22 (ESV)
So what will be the nature of this new freedom from bondage for creation? (Hold on, we’re getting there…)
Scripture also tells us that as part of this event, death itself will be destroyed once and for all (1 Cor. 15:26; Rev. 20:14). Of course, when death is destroyed, we can safely interpret this to mean that there will be no more dying. But I think it goes much deeper than that.
Consider this:
By Christ’s resurrection, He demonstrated complete mastery over death. I believe His resurrection was infinitely effectual for not only those who put their faith in Him, but also for the rest of non-human creation. If I’m right, not only will there will be no more dying, but there will be a complete reversal of death’s effects for all creation.
When I was a kid, well-meaning church members would explain to me that there was nothing in the Bible that says we will see pets or other animals in heaven. But this objection seems to be an argument from silence. While we may need to appeal a little to mystery, from scripture, I think it’s entirely possible that everything that has ever died will be brought to life again in the new creation.
I believe we will witness a complete resurrection.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. “Mike, that’s a lot of dead squirrels… how would all the things that ever lived fit in the new creation?”
My point is that nothing is impossible for God. Whether He makes the earth larger, creation smaller, or does some kind of Dr. Who TARDIS relativity thing, there’s no practical reason for believing that the Lord won’t completely reverse the effects of pain, suffering, and death and restore everything that was once lost in the Curse.
I say this not because I’m an animal lover or want it to be true. I say it because the Lord is not the God of incomplete, partial effort. He is the Lord of perfect completion–the God of infinite reconciliation who is making all things new.
Remember the resurrection! Just imagine what it will be like!
I can’t wait to see my relatives who have gone on to see the Lord. I also can’t wait to see the saints throughout history and hear about their stories. We’ll begin to recognize faces which will mark the beginning of what will be one glorious reunion. There will be hugs and tears of joy. There will be laughter and excitement like never before. Together, we’ll get to see our Lord’s smiling face—not as through a glass darkly, but face-to-face, with perfect clarity.
And if my theory is right, I suspect I’ll also see Moogie. Knowing her, she’ll running with the other cats, rolling in the grass, and celebrating along with the rest of creation.
Hold tight, Saints. It’s just a matter of time.