Faith by Maine Coon

In June, I lost my job. In October, I lost my home. In November, I lost my mother. Then in January, I lost my cat. It was a preventable loss, too; that’s what really gets under my skin. It was completely my fault! Because I’ve lost everything, I don’t have much to do really save sit on the bed with my laptop. I write, I read, I look for employment. Tiffany often jumps up here with me. And the new environment makes looking out the window very interesting for him. He loves the Desert Quail and the dried flora when either tumble in front of him. He perks up, ears front and paws at the glass before sticking his nose out the crack I have in the window to assist with a cool breeze. And if everything were this simple in my head, it likely would not have happened. If my head wasn’t cluttered with calling creditors; looking for jobs; worrying about my marriage because he’s a part of my mess, too; worrying about my health because it’s never been great; making lists of everything I’ve lost which needs replacing; clipping coupons to save on groceries; sucking up pride to ask for my father’s credit card every other day; and making sure I’m at his house on time because to do so otherwise is mildly insulting to him – if my mind weren’t in all of these places at once, I might have remembered to shut the window when I hurried away to shower so as to have enough time to visit my father, go to the store, and figure out how to make a semi-interesting dinner with only shredded cheese, hamburger and Bisquick. I might have realized that Tiffy, the Adventure Cat, was probably just sitting back, waiting for that moment that he knew would come when mommy wasn’t sitting guard to the doorway of Desert Land. It was 30 minutes later when I walked into the bedroom and saw the pillow I had been leaning against was pushed toward the window. As if something had weighted it down. I quickly yelled to Bruce that we needed to do a cat count. When only 4 were seen, I grabbed the bag of cat food and did the never-fail cat call – the bag shake. Still only 4. Knowing where Tiffany had leapt from, I decided to go outside to the bush nearest the window (well, not before quickly feeding the other 4 after the first bag shake. They didn’t understand the urgency of the situation and just sat there and looked at me with disdain when I didn’t immediately fill their bowls). No sign of him, and my heart sunk even further. It was getting close to the time to leave. I had 5 more minutes, and I spent every last second scouring every bush, every corner and crack that I thought this little fluffy troublemaker might be hiding in. Finally I hear Bruce say, “C’mon. Put on your shoes. We have to go.” Driving slowly down our street, looking frantically still, my eyes welled up making it even harder to see in the now much darkened neighborhood. Not feeling like cooking, we ditched the groceries and instead, waited until our scheduled visiting time sipping coffee at the local diner. 20 minutes of dishes clanking and little kids yelling and registers humming all amplified in my head. By now I had pretty much relegated myself to the knowledge that Tiffany would not make it. My knowledge of desert wildlife coupled with his personality left me certain that I had caused the slow death of my precious Tiffany. The coffee and soda were free as it turned out. I was quick to assume it was due to the slow service; Bruce, I see now, has more faith than I. Bruce believes it was because my red and swollen eyes and the lack of much conversation was all the incentive the waiter needed to help lessen whatever hurt I was obviously feeling. Off to dad’s, Bruce was kind to explain what had happened so they would wonder why I looked disheveled. In only an hour or so, I had ordered what I had needed to with dad's credit card, and Dad and Debby went over the expense sheet I had emailed to them earlier that day so we could all devise a plan to help us get back on our feet. I borrowed a flashlight and back we went to the house where my plan was to throw together a couple of sandwiches for Bruce so he could get to bed (he gets up at 3:30 for work), and then to don his Carhartt and skull cap and look beyond our property line for my cat. It wasn’t as easy as I had though it would be; even with a flashlight. A cup of food to shake in one hand, a flashlight in the other, and an axe handle cradled under my arm lest I run into any pack of wild dogs and coyotes commonplace around these parts. The light wasn’t nearly as diffuse as I had figured and others’ property lines were difficult to discern if there was no fence. The shadows created both by me and the moon made it seem like creatures were darting underneath my feet at every turn. Searching was a lost cause, so I decided to sleep in the back room next to the sliding glass door. I would leave it open enough so he wouldn’t have to paw at it and hope to entice him home with a pile of food placed just outside. As I sat there looking both at my reflection in the glass and for him outside, I began to think about the “why.” Why had I lost my job and why did my mom hate me enough to disown me? I could explain almost all of the horrible events of the previous year. I had a reason for why everything happened except this. This, I could not understand why, especially on top of everything else, why did I have to lose one more thing in my life? And I wasn’t meaning “how.” Yes, I screwed up and left the window open; that’s how. I wanted to know why. What lesson was I supposed to learn from this? He’s a cat. His behavior isn’t in my control. He didn’t have to jump out the window, and yet he did. Why? To teach me what? To show me what? And I replayed this question over and over. I analyzed it for 30 minutes as I lay, bundled up in jacket and blankets next to an open door hoping he would return. Hoping, but not confident. And then I thought about the difference between hope and faith. And because I could do little – nothing really – to influence whether he returned, I thought to myself, “if he does come back, maybe there is something out there.” When I heard Bruce come through the door not 5 minutes later, I thought he was just coming to check on me. But instead of stopping, he ran right past me into the freezing night with nothing on but his boxers. The tears that fell as Bruce brought Tiffany back into the house weren’t just joyous ones because a loved one had found his way home. They also fell because Tiffany told me to hang on and believe - there is something out there. AA