Praying For Pets - Part Two

       My cat is dying.  Puck is 17 years old.  We brought him home when he was 8.  I adopted him from a friend who simply didn’t want him anymore and I was afraid of what might have happened to him if I didn’t take him.  I didn’t want to him be left in a shelter.  It was, sadly, the end of the friendship because I couldn’t understand how anyone could be so genuinely happy to “get rid of him,” like a broken old bookcase that cluttered the basement.  No harsh words were spoken; there was no “break,” I just found myself less interested in spending time with her.

Puck when we first brought him home

      Puck is a great cat.  He is cuddly and affectionate and purrs a lot.  I like to think that he is as happy that he came to live with us as we are to have him.  He knows how to stand his ground, though. When we brought home our 50-pound dog (also 8 at the time we brought him home), Puck wasted no time in telling Patrick (the dog) who was boss.  Patrick, who had cat siblings in a previous home, understood this going in, and we’ve had no trouble.  Last year, a neighbor’s dog wandered into our weekend place when we left a door open.  That dog is probably 60 pounds, young, and full of energy (and as sweet as he can be).  Puck followed him around the house meowing, cornered him, and smacked him a couple of times.  The poor dog fled the house and has not even ventured into our yard again (which we are sorry about).  Puck is also very jealous.  If you are paying attention to Jasmine (our other cat) or Patrick or electronics or reading material of any kind, Puck will be sure to head butt his way into the action, making sure that he is the center of attention.  Then he purrs.

Puck enjoys some lap time

      The day before Thanksgiving, Puck was diagnosed with large cell granular lymphoma. He was yellow with jaundice and his liver was severely compromised. The prognosis was bleak indeed, and we were told that without treatment, he might live 2-4 weeks; with treatment, maybe 4-8 weeks.  We wrestled with the options, but decided to try the first dose of the recommended treatment to see how he responded, then go from there.  I also reached out to many of my animal and theology friends and asked them to pray for Puck, and to pray that my husband and I would know how to make the right decisions for him.  We could not bring ourselves to think about celebrating Christmas, because we expected it would be a very sad time. 

 

       But Puck surprised us all, especially the vets. 
He responded well to the first treatment, and even better to the second.  His blood work showed his liver function had returned to normal; he was eating and gaining weight; and his personality was showing through again.  He was able to go three weeks before his next vet visit.  We knew this was temporary, but it was so much more than we had dared to hope that were over the moon!  We went to our weekend place and celebrated Christmas and the New Year with no tree, no decorations, and no gifts.  We felt like the Whos down in Whoville (with apologies to Dr. Seuss).  Christmas came after all.  And we were grateful.

Puck and his "sister" help with repotting plants

       But Puck’s most recent visit to the vet tells us the cancer is doing its evil work again, and his liver function is down (but not nearly as bad as it was when he was diagnosed).  We tried a different drug and we’ll go back next week to see how he is and make some new decisions.  Maybe he has some surprises yet in store for us; maybe not.  Maybe we have several weeks or even another month or two with him; maybe not.  Right now, he is still purring, still eating, and still in charge of the house.  That is enough for us.  We remain grateful.  But I will reach out again to my animal and theology friends and ask for renewed prayers.  

      Did earlier prayers play any role in Puck’s surprising, odds-beating (if short lived) remission?  Who can say? But I know I place more faith in prayer than in coincidence.  I know that if I hadn’t asked for prayers for him, I would have felt that I had not done everything for his health and happiness that I could have.  And I know that I felt better knowing those prayers were being said and that I had at my disposal a wonderful and supportive community who understand that Puck is not “just a cat.”  He is one of my babies.  A member of my family.  I love him and his loss will be profound.  I felt – and feel – supported and lifted up by that community, and it will help make the loss, when it comes, easier to bear.  

      Some years ago, I did a post for this blog called “Praying for Pets.” (Another related earlier post is "On The Loss Of A Pet.")  In that post, I reflected on the fact that a presenter at a church service observed that “we pray more often for pets” at the children’s service than at the adult service.  In my post, I wondered why we don’t pray more (or at all) for pets in adult services.  I hope you will click through to read that post again, but I’m copying here just a short a portion:

        When our pets are sick, where else should we turn for comfort and hope, but to God?  When they are facing surgery or have been hurt in an accident or are suffering from illness or anxiety, why would we not ask God’s blessing upon them?  Scripture tells us that God created and loves the animals and that not one sparrow falls without Him. (Matt. 10:29).  God loves our pets as much as we do; He knows their suffering and He cares about their well-being. 

        I think another reason we don’t pray for pets in church is that, as adults, we don’t like to acknowledge how much our pets mean to us, for fear that other people will think we are silly or trivial.  So when they are sick, we are hesitant to admit how worried we are, or when they pass away, we are hesitant to admit how grief-stricken we are.  Indeed, the lack of pastoral care when a pet is lost is a significant gap in the church, although some faith communities are taking steps to recognize the reality of this kind of loss and grief.

        The fact is that pets are important parts of our lives, whether we are children or adults.  The relationships we form with them are real, as is the joy they bring us, the love we feel for them, and the loss we know when they are gone.  There is nothing silly or trivial about this kind of love – it makes us more human. 

      I am fortunate to have a community and resources to help me process this illness and the inevitable loss in a faithful, supported, way.  I know people will not look at me sideways when I grieve this loss.  So few of us have that in our faith communities.  More churches are waking up to this need, but it is still a small number.  We should feel as free to put our pets’ names on the church prayer list as our parents’ names.  

 

Puck admires his rugged good looks

      For the many, many Christians who feel they have nowhere to turn in anxiety or grief for their pets, for those who indeed would be looked down upon as silly or trivial if they made such a prayer request, I hope at least you have an online community and resources – either through this blog and its Facebook page or one of the many others that have been created to acknowledge and support the place of our pets – and all animals -- in our theology, in our compassion, and in our Christian mercy. (In particular, Shepherding All God’s Creatures has a Facebook Group dedicated to praying for companion and other animals.)  Know at least that God hears you, and He loves you, and He loves your pets - and you should feel free to pray with gusto for their well being and for your own comfort in time of need.   

     I will continue to pray not only for Puck and my other pets, but also for the Christian community, that we might open our eyes to this pressing pastoral need, and to our obligations as creatures in the image of God to care for all God’s creatures with mercy and compassion.