Fur Buddies: Companion Pets Touched By God

Mikey's caterwauling shattered the afternoon quiet. "Drama queen," I muttered, already halfway to the door. Honestly, you'd think he was facing down a rabid raccoon instead of an empty food bowl. Fourteen years. Fourteen years of Siamese serenades, demanding head boops, and enough shedding to knit a whole other cat. His separation anxiety was a constant challenge, but it was in those moments of frustration that I often found myself reflecting on our journey together.

It all started in a Vegas grooming shop. I was looking for a buddy for my brooding Bombay, Leonardo, a therapy kitty for his sad heart. Then this guy walks in with four rescued kittens, fresh from a coyote scare. Two tabbies, two black. One by one, they found homes. Except for him. The alien cat. Skinny, with these enormous ears that seemed to defy gravity and blue-green eyes. He was the last of a litter rescued from a coyote’s jaws—an unlikely survivor with eyes like precious stones. I called him Raphael at first, but he ignored me. "Mikey?"

From the moment I called him “Mikey” and his tiny engine of a purr started, I knew we were meant to be. His purr vibrated through my soul the second I held him. Soulmates. Over the years, Mikey proved to be more than a pet; he was a therapy cat with a heart that could heal. He'd accompany me on my knees during prayers, purring as if to affirm my spoken hopes and fears. Like a direct line to the Big Guy himself.

His calming presence extended beyond me, soothing other animals entering new homes. He’d work with rescue pets, patiently teaching them how to cat (or dog) in a new home. He was the Dr. Phil of the animal world, never losing his cool. He was a cat with a mission, and I often marveled at how God chose such a special creature to be my companion.

Now, sitting here typing, I can practically feel his judgmental stare boring into the back of my head. Cats. I am reminded of how various cultures have revered cats for centuries. In Norse mythology, Freyja’s chariot was pulled by cats, symbolizing fertility and love. Bastet in Egypt, bringing protection. Even in Japanese folklore, the "Maneki-neko" is a beckoning cat bringing good fortune. Sacred guardians in ancient Rome. But why?

Through these lenses, I see Mikey as a little guardian, sent by a Creator who thought of every detail, including the hairs on those triangular ears. Science says those little hairs on their triangular ears (called tragi, which direct sound) help them pinpoint prey. And those triangle ears themselves funnel sound. Of course, God thought of that. My phone barely connects to Wi-Fi, and God's designing feline audio systems. His O.C.D. is truly awe-inspiring.

Mikey is God’s awesomeness wrapped in a fur coat. God’s meticulous design is evident in every whisker, every twitch of that expressive tail. He thought of us, the flawed humans who needed a purring, demanding, shedding companion. I strongly feel that we humans definitely don’t deserve them. And he made indoor cat eyes unique, too.

Unlike big cats with slit pupils, our house panthers have elliptical pupils that can open wider to see better in low light. Domestic cats have eyes distinct from their wild cousins, allowing them to communicate with us through those mesmerizing gazes. Domesticated cats weren't selectively bred from mountain lions. God created them already domesticated, purposed for companionship and helping us with our rodent problem.

I often joke, “If you don’t believe God is real, then you’ve never owned a cat!” But beneath the humor lies a profound truth: Mikey is a reminder of God’s grace, a tangible sign of His love resting at my feet, sometimes demanding treats.

Sometimes, I get swallowed by my own insignificance. A blip. A cosmic nobody. Then I remember Mikey, the alien-eared, biscuit-making, prayer partner cat, and I know I'm loved. He's my constant, across state lines and through life's curveballs. People try to replicate the Mikey magic, hoping for their own feline guru. But there's only one Mikey.

As the sun sets and Mikey curls up beside me, I contemplate the beauty of God’s creation. God didn't just create creatures; he created companions, furry guardians to watch over our hearts and homes. It's a reminder that even in the quietest corners of our lives, He’s present, providing comfort and love in the most unexpected forms. Psalm 36:6 comes to mind: "Your righteousness is like the highest mountains, your justice like the great deep. You, Lord, preserve both people and animals." This verse encapsulates the lesson Mikey has taught me—that God's care extends to all His creations, each one crafted with purpose and love. Mikey's presence in my life is a testament to this divine care, a constant reminder that even in my solitude, I am never truly alone. God, in His infinite wisdom, knew I needed a guardian, a muse, and a friend—all found in the form of one extraordinary cat.

God didn't just create creatures; he created companions, furry guardians to watch over our hearts and homes. It's a reminder that even in the quietest corners of our lives, He’s present, providing comfort and love in the most unexpected forms. And that brings me to this: "Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? And not one of them is forgotten before God." - Luke 12:6. This verse reminds me of how meticulously God cares for everything, even seemingly insignificant details. My bond with Mikey, that constant shadow of love, proves that I, too, am seen and cared for. It anchors my soul to the truth that even in my "blip" existence, I am not forgotten.

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AUTHOR: Sarah Lester

LOCATION: United States