The Carrier

My nickname for my orange boy cat is Macho. So, it’s simultaneously sad and funny when he screams like a woman. Why was he screaming? Well, all I did was put him inside the pet carrier so he could get his annual shots at the vet this morning. As usual, this freaked him out. I think Macho woke up at least one of my neighbors with his high-pitched screeches.

I tried to make the car ride as enjoyable as possible. I even played “Message in a Bottle” on my stereo as a humorous soundtrack to Macho’s melodramatic meowing. I tried to be as playful with him as possible. “You like it when Mama drives fast?” I asked as I zoomed onto the highway with The Police on my stereo. I told Macho, “I love you!” He replied, “MEOW!!!” He calmed down a tiny bit after we arrived at the vet’s office and I pried him out of the carrier. He was literally trembling and snuggled next to my arm, bosom, and tummy during the examination and injections. This was a very scary process for him. See the panicked look on his face in the photo above? (I snapped it after I brought him back home).

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” (Psalm 34:18)

In a previous blog post (on 8/22/10), I briefly mentioned what happened when my girl cat, nickname: Choochie, had to live in the pet carrier while she healed from her spay surgery several years ago. (Last night and this morning, she was hanging out in the pet carrier while Macho was avoiding it.) She became obsessed with her stitches and licked/scraped them so much that she gave herself an infection. I kept a close watch on her during her healing process, and I love how the two of us bonded during that time. (Perhaps you’ve seen Facebook pictures of her perching on my shoulder. Aw, I love my Choochie!)

Lately, I’ve been going through a very intense emotional healing process with God. He’s been slicing me open, cleaning out the dirt, squeezing out the infectious puss, and washing it all out with hydrogen peroxide, so to speak. I wonder if the healing process is even more painful than the initial wounding! It’s a very scary process for me. I don’t want God my Father to pick me up, while I’m kicking and screaming, and stuff me into my carrier and drag me to the spiritual doctor’s office. It’s scary to be examined, poked, and prodded. But when I’m trembling, I can nestle close to my Father and bury my freaked-out head in His arm, bosom, and tummy. He can calm me down and tell me everything is going to be OK. He can assure me that it’s all going to be over soon and that He’ll be there with me the entire time.

To clarify, I don’t want this scary process... yet I want it. Make sense? :) I don’t want to remember terrible memories or make amends where I need to or face fears or smell the stench of an old infection. But I want to get cleaned out as much as possible, and I want to be all healed up, freed up, brand-new, ready to fly and soar above whatever’s coming up next. I want to be as close to my Father as possible. I’m glad that He wants to be close to me, I’m glad that He’s patient with me, and I’m glad that He cares enough about me to take the time to heal me.

If you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go check on Macho. Sometimes he gets feverish after his shots, but he’ll be back to normal in about 24 hours or so. At least the womanish screams are only a memory now. MEOW!!!