Orion's Trip to the Pound

Yesterday, I took my new fur-baby, Orion, to BARC, the city pound, to get neutered. I would have taken him to my own vet, but the surgery is expensive and BARC was going to do it for free. So, to BARC we went.

Orion is a ginger tabby, about 10 months to a year old. He's got spunk and personality and a VOICE. Oh my gosh, does he ever love to talk! He was especially vocal yesterday morning because I had removed his food and water the night before and the poor guy was hungry and thirsty! From his perspective, he was being perfectly reasonable. And I must admit meowing "I'm hungry!" and "I'm thirsty!" is much preferred to knocking things over or tearing up furniture (or my leg)! But I had to resist the urge to give in. And yet as many times as I told him he couldn't have any food or water, he just wouldn't listen. Or maybe he couldn't understand.

I put Orion in the same cardboard carrier that we'd brought him home in for the ride back to BARC. We have a nice soft carrier that I use for trips to the vet, but I didn't want to leave it at the pound all day, and maybe not get it back. Of course, when I tried to explain that to Orion, he again did not understand.

The entire way to the facility (a 45 minute trip downtown), Orion cried. He cried and cried. He stuck his paw out through the tiny round holes in the cardboard carrier. He tried to stick his nose out of the holes, which worked about as well as you'd expect. And he would try to turn his head to stair out the hole at me. And all the time, he cried.

My heart broke. All Orion knew was that he was hungry and thirsty, and locked up in a dark cardboard box that smelled like the pound, cut off from his new mommy and being taken away from his new big brother. And I would shortly be dropping him off at the pound and leaving him there. WOE IS HE! How much horrible could life get? What did Orion do to deserve such treatment? He had done everything that he could to be a loving, happy kitty. He didn't attack the dogs, he didn't beat up the old cat. He slept well and purred lots and gave lots of love. He might have damaged a few of mommy's possessions beyond repair (*cough*DDR mat*cough*), but he was a good boy about using the litter box and he was learning not to attack the "bedmice" unless they were under 3 layers of blankets! What did he do that was worthy of such rejection?!

I wanted to tell Orion that it would be okay. To explain to him that I had his best interests at heart. I tried to tell him. But he just couldn't understand. So, I just listened to him cry and I offered a prayer for God to keep him safe. And then I dropped him off at BARC and promised him that I'd be back. Of course, he didn't understand.

As I drove away, a thought occurred to me. How often are we in the same position as Orion. We may not be closed up in cardboard boxes and taken to the pound to be neutered against our will, but there are no doubt times when we find ourselves spiritually thirsty, hungry for something we can't find, and lost in the darkness. Life is throwing us rotten fruit after rotten fruit. Nothing is going our way. We may have lost everything that we treasured in life, and we may not know what tomorrow will bring. Perhaps we even believe that God has abandoned us, and we wonder, what did we do to deserve this fate?

What I find interesting in this example is that just as Orion could not comprehend the bigger picture, we cannot always understand the plan that God has in store for us. He'd tell us, I think, if we could understand. But compared to God's omniscience, we are more simpleminded than a 2 week old kitten. We cannot understand God's plans because we are not God. We do not have the mental capacities to wrap our thoughts around all that He is and all that He knows. It's not that God has abandoned us, and it is not that God refuses to let us in on His great plan. I think the issue is simply that we are physically incapable of comprehending what He wants for His children.

Another interesting realization that I made is that when I drove Orion to the vet, I could not explain to him what was going on. I could not console him in terms that he understood. But I was there. I heard him cry out. And I cried with him. Is God not the same? When we cry in the darkness, He doesn't wave us off with a "Oh, you'll get over it." He cries with us. Even knowing what He knows, He cries with us, because we are crying.

Yesterday afternoon, I picked up Orion at BARC just as I promised. I took with me our soft carrier and he rode home in that, where he could look out at me the entire time. He meowed for a while, then he fell asleep. When we got home, I gave him all the food he could eat and all the water he could drink. Trevor gave him a thorough face-bath. And last night, Orion slept the entire night in my arms. He was back home, right where he belongs.