Confusion is Confusing

Confusion sometimes comes our way

By: Dr. Jeff Fuller

 

I am somewhat confused.  Thought about going to the doctor for some medicine, but I do not believe that would work.  Even thought about driving down to see my friend, the counselor, but decided that it would be best just to write about it and maybe alleviate some of the confusion; or at least get it out in the open and maybe find someone to sympathize with me.

We have been in Rockford for five years and it seems that our house is an attraction for the wayward, disenfranchised and unwanted.  For five years I have endured and been kindly putting up with this problem, which has cost monetarily, in mental distress, and internal relationships with my family.  While it seems, to some of my readers, that I might be just a tad overboard in my evaluations, I am not.  I am as serious as a bear trying to get the last morsel of cake off of the front seat of a BMW, through the sunroof.

At first it was a wandering problem-the one seeking a hand out would pass through, get refreshment and be on their merry way.  But lately, it has been a “take up residence and make themselves at home kind” of thing.

By the way, before you call me cold and unloving to humankind; I am not talking about the two legged kind of living being who want assistance, I am talking about the four legged kind that is seeking refuge.

There have been quite a few to come and go.  I am not sure if someone has printed flyers and passed them around Central Alabama, with a map to our house or if it is just that animals have seen me coming in and out, noted that I am well feed and rather nice to my family and said, “That is where I want to live.”

I really do not know, but it has cost me.  More than I wanted to pay!

Back a couple of years ago, a sweet little mutt met me at the door, as I was leaving for the office.  It jumped up on me, causing me to spill my coffee and soiling my pants leg.  Savannah heard the commotion, came to my aid, but in doing so looked up with her sparkling blue eyes, batted her long lashes and said, “Daddy, oh daddy, please can we keep her?”

I stumbled through the standard excuses and said, “Find that thing a home.”

A few weeks later I was breaking up a fight between the dog, which now had the name “Molly” and my adorable, rather large and completely black Lab/German Shepard mix named Jasper.  It was then I realized that Molly was probably not going anywhere unless I pushed the issue.

During a family conference, lasting for at least three days, it was finally arranged that we would find someone to take Molly off of our hands. It was not an easy subject to deal with, as the girls really wanted to out vote me, but when they realized the seriousness of the issue, they came to by side.  It was not without protest, tears, and a few nights of sleeping in the dog house for me.  The day came, someone picked up Molly, gave her a new home and that was that.  So I thought.

The dogs have come through, but now it is cats.  We have a cat.  His name is Treble and we has been with us for over eleven years.  He has one eye, is rather protective, and quite content. 

His friend, Myrtle, which was with him as a kitten, died a few years ago and left him to be the protector and defender of the Fuller house.

Outside, we have acquired a few feral cats.  The queen feral came up one day, with her three kittens, and Savannah immediately welcomed them into our lives.  I, on the other hand, said as clearly and as firmly as possible, “Find these cats a home, now!”

While they were very shy and scrambled away whenever you got near them, mommy cat and one of the little ones did get friendly.  The little one got friendly enough that Frankie Cousin took it off our hands.  (If I have not thanked you, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”)  Yet, mommy cat, Callie, along with kittens, which are now young cats, Buttercup and Boots, are regulars at the house.  They sleep in various places around the block-I think the drain pipe at the corner of Jackson and Nixburg is their favorite hiding places.  But when the bowls rattle and the food hits the dish, they come running.

Recently, while talking with Deputy Smith in the driveway, a young kitten came out from under my truck.  Rubbing my ankle, purring to beat the band, that little kitten surprised me.  I thought it was Boots, but I was wrong.  Deputy Smith bent over to pet it and that little thing was staying no matter what I said.  It climbed up my pants leg, got on the hood of the cruiser and rolled around, while I rubbed its belly and petted its head.

Hoping it would have found a place to go by morning was not in the plans for my life.  It has now taken residence at our house, going by the name of Buddy, and is Savannah’s favorite toy.  She picks it up every time she goes outside, carries it around the yard like a rag doll and loves to show it off to anyone who comes by.

You see my confusion.  I am totally unaware of what I have done to merit such appreciation.  These four cats are making me feel like a very loved and blessed person; while at the same time I want them gone.  I know that cats are good at keeping chipmunks and snakes away.  That is a good thing, since it was a chipmunk that cost me an arm and a leg on a repair bill for a car and snakes are not my friends.  But why me?  Why my house?  Why am I buying cat food for cats that could be chasing field rats?  I am so confused I am getting a pain in the temple region of my head.

            While I go find some Advil, think about this: “This I recall to my mind, therefore have I hope.  It is of the Lord'S mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not.  They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness.” (Lamentations 3:21-23 KJV)

            As I exited the house this morning, Buddy (who is now Rosebud, because we discovered it is a female), Boots and Buttercup met me at the door.  They were so sweet as they looked up at the master of the house and made way for me to walk through the garage.  Buddy, rubbing my pants leg and purring as loud as possible was showing love and appreciation for a home.  He followed me to the truck, sat down next the van and seemed to be saying, “Thank you.”

            While I considered them and this verse it dawned on me.  Really, it more like God hit me up side the head.  I was reminded that God loves me, gave me a new day, woke me up, and sent me on the way.  He did not have to; but because of His love for me, He did.  He loves me so much He cares for me and extends those things I do not deserve, instead of those things I do deserve.

            I think I am not as confused now and thank you for attending to my rambling.  God sent these animals to remind me of something and today I finally grasped the lesson.  Will you?

            Until next time…