Scouring the Heart

     This week has brought a lot of challenges, but also so much joy! It has been so easy to see the silver lining of gratitude despite the storm clouds of life. The past 20 hours has brought an even greater challenge: death and forgiveness. For those of you who are not animal lovers, you may not understand this; and for those that have recently lost a family member or friend, you may find this trite. Trust me when I say that I've had a good share of death in my life both human, and animal: I've watched my father die from cancer. I 've lost two babies from miscarriages. I went to the funeral of my best friend on my 7th birthday. I've even lost both grandparents- just to name a few. Please don't think that I'm trivializing your suffering because of the grief I express over the loss of a pet.     However, this is truly how I feel at this moment.  It is hard to put into words how torn up about this I feel. If tears scour the heart, consider mine clean. I keep thinking that I really don't have any more tears left, and another wave of sadness rolls in.
     It has been a long time since I've really had a pet to call my own. Harley is our family dog, but my hubby was the driving force behind us getting him. When we talked about moving, we began by promising the girls outdoor cats if we lived in the country the way we had dreamed of. They have been dreaming of cats since a very young age, and they were overjoyed at the prospect. They both laughed and gigled at the thought of getting the ultimate birthday present. This past week my hubby picked three darling kittens slated to live outside, but that we allowed in our entryway for a few days to get them accustomed to our family. We put up a gate to keep them apart from our dog, and they stayed away from our gate because our dog was intimidating to them.  Also, my girls really only left them to go to the bathroom and to eat. They even slept with them the first night, and then last night (because it was my eight year old's birthday wish). We were given three- two for my oldest, and one for me. There is nothing like the playfulness of a kitten, and the contentedness of having one climb into your lap to take a nap. I named mine Giselle. I love that name and after having four girls, I know my hubby's feelings on the name would prevent us from ever using it. She showed the most spunk out of all the kittens, and I was sure she would be the one to teach our dog a lesson if he ever got out of line. Growing up, my brother always had a dog and I had a cat. We researched on-line how to introduce dogs to cats, as my greatest concern was how he'd handle their addition to our family. Their introductions went well, and it apparently took away their inhibitions over him enough that Giselle decided to climb over the gate to explore. Every time he came near her, she would hiss and then give a low-throated warning to stay away. She even tried a swipe or two at him, which he would dodge. She was the most sensitive, and defensive around him. Long story short, I awoke this morning to our dog barking which I found odd...but when I heard my hubby's voice down with him, I felt assured that he had the situation at hand. When my girls came up to see me a couple of minutes later, I could tell that the birthday girl had been crying. Harley and Giselle fought, and he won. When I came downstairs and saw her motionless form laying in our living room, I wept. We had only had her for three days, but I loved her just the same. It feels like a horrible waste, and I have gone through feelings of intense sadness mixed with remorse over not doing enough to protect her followed by anger at our dog. I'll never be able to look at him the same way again.
     Forgiveness is essential; and yet in this case, I know it will take me a long time of continuing to say it out loud till I can actually feel it in my heart. I feel numb and raw, and hurt. My mom is a grief councilor,  and she said that there is always a treasure in grief. I can't find the one at this moment. I'll let you know if this changes.  Part of me wishes, we would have just gotten two cats. She could still be safe in her old home instead of buried in our back yard.
     Initially,  I was relieved when it was mine instead of my girls; but when they instantly started in with cries of protest over putting them outside and all the potential dangers,  I remembered what I think the hardest thing about having pets is: watching them die. I've already buried three cats. My first was also just a kitten when a neighbor dog ran into our yard, and snapped her back. I was three years old, but I can still remember vivid details from that day: the color of the sky, and the place in our yard that it happened...even the room I was held by my mom as my father shot my poor kitty that had been paralyzed and left dying by the attack.
     The hardest thing in all of this has been still looking at Harley. He still pads up to me expecting to go everywhere with me. He still expects the occassional treat. He still expects me to translate his whimpers to the girls. When I get up in the middle of the night, he stills gets up to greet me. Every time I look at him, I struggle with my feelings as I see the puncture wounds she inflicted on his face.  I feel angry with him for winning and just being a dog. I have a hard time touching him knowing what he has done. They say time heals all wounds, but I think that the longer the time after the incident, the easier the pain is to bear. I don't think it ever goes away. Right now the pain is nearly unbearable because it is so fresh.
     So, God, I turn to You and ask you to help me forgive. I ask You to forgive any neglect on my part,  and I ask for Your comfort and perspective on this. Could you bring me some joy too?