Going to the Big Guy

I have a little kitty named Frank. He is about 9 months old, so he’s not that little. A better description is that he’s young. He has an extremely fluffy tail and distinctive orange stripes on his sides. Tufts of hair curl out of his ears like a bobcat. He really is a beautiful cat. (Since I had nothing to do with it, I can say that and not feel like I’m bragging.)

Frank came to live with us when he was four weeks old. He was sitting in the middle of the street when a woman almost ran over him. He was covered in burrs. She took him to our veterinarian’s office where they cleaned him up.  They knew we were looking for a kitten so they called us. One look and we fell in love. Being four weeks old he had to be fed every four hours. And also being four weeks old he had to be coaxed to go to the bathroom by rubbing his bottom with a cotton ball soaked in warm water. I knew mama cats licked their kittens to clean them, but I did not know they licked them to make them go. You learn something every day.

He got his name because he toddled across the kitchen floor with his legs stiff like Frankenstein. As he grew, it became obvious that his stiff-legged walk is due to some abnormality in either his hips or his knees. His snout is also a bit short. Maybe that’s why his mama abandoned him. She knew he had some things that would make it hard for him to survive in the wild. Stiff legs and a short snout don’t matter when you’re an inside cat. All manner of abnormalities are possible to live with in the ease and safety of a house.

Immediately, we noticed that Frank has an attraction to paper. For the first few weeks he was with us he lived in the kitchen. When we would crumple up a piece of paper to throw it away, Frank would turn his complete attention to the sound. We’d throw the paper on the floor. He’d bat it around and chase after it until it was as thin and limp as a tissue.

Since he was so young and no mama to lick him clean, I had a routine of bathing him. He loved it. Being in the water didn’t seem to bother him at all. I’d blow his fur dry, wrap him in a towel and he’d fall asleep, just like a real baby. That was our first clue that he likes water. Once he got big enough to have the run of the house, we noticed that he had a fascination with the toilet. He’d put his paws on the toilet seat and watch the flushing action–we call it a swirly. The bigger he got and the more agile, he would run into the bathroom when either my husband or I would go in there. He even followed our friend Larry into the bathroom. Frank gave him quite a start when he came up between his legs to watch the action.

These are the cute things Frank does. But he also does something that is not so cute: he bites. As a kitten we thought he’d outgrow it. And besides, his baby teeth weren’t sharp enough to hurt. As his adult teeth came in and he got bigger and stronger, it ceased to be cute. The first thing we tried was a spray bottle filled with water. That didn’t seem to be the deterrent we were hoping for. We added vinegar, just a little. That worked better. We used it so much that Frank cringed when he even saw the bottle. We left the bottle unattended a couple of times and he hid it. Unlike Frank, we learned our lesson quickly. A dog-trainer friend suggested saying “Baa!” in a deep, loud voice when he bites. It works by distracting him from the biting to the sound. So we tried that and it works sometimes. But not always. Not as consistently as the vinegar.

Finally, I decided to pray about it. I felt like Ralphie in the movie A Christmas Story when he tried everything to get the “Official Red Ryder Carbine-Action Two-Hundred-Shot Range Model Air Rifle” on his Christmas list. He expressed his desire to his mom and his teacher. Then he thought of the big guy, Santa Claus. Like Ralphie, I had tried everything I could think of. Then I remembered THE big guy, God. He made Frank. He’ll know what to do. He can make him stop biting.

So Frank has a regular line on my prayer list right up there with my husband and my kids. I pray for him when it’s my turn to bless the meal. I pray for him when I’m petting and cuddling him. (His saving grace is that he can be very affectionate.) I can’t say that there has been a miraculous change; but he is getting better. I say that all the time and Butch makes fun of me. But he is getting better.

Sarah Young in her devotional book Jesus Calling, suggests that once you ask God for something, you should not ask again. After making the original request, instead of asking again and again, you should simply thank him for working to answer your prayer. Well, I’m not so good at the thankfully waiting thing. I’ve asked and asked. I’m waiting, trusting (and in the meantime asking again) that God will change his creation named Frank.

I really do need to work on that thankfully waiting part. Perhaps some divine vinegar would help.