A Tail of Two Kitties

Hi everyone! My name is Gemma, and my adopted mom is Linda Newberry. Before we knew Linda, I was called Pork Chop. I always thought it had to do a little with my figure and so when Linda decided to change my name, I wasn’t mad at all. She calls me Gemma Girl a lot, even kinda sings it when she wants me to come into the room she is in.

I don’t usually go anywhere unless it is my idea, or maybe if it is snack time. I like to sleep on the sofa in her office. There are times I just don’t want to move, but it is nice of her to want to include me in whatever it is she is doing at the minute.

Cheerio Bob’s new name is Joy. That name fits her much better. At any rate, we came to live here a few years ago. We cried all the way from Delton, Michigan: it was one of the longest trips of our lives and no one said anything to us about this change.

The first night here, I surprised her. She didn’t think I had my front claws, and it was a big surprise when they got caught in her sock. Back in those days, they were a lot like hooks. I had such a good grip on the sock that rather than freaking me out, she slipped out of it and let me work my way out of the thing on my own.

I knew right then that she might be someone I could be friends with, someone I could depend on.  Since then, we (Joy and I) have really had her in training. I’m pretty sure she thinks that we are the ones in training, but she has it turned around.  She is always good about food and water and keeping the litter box clean. But, you know, day-to-day things we had to get her accustomed to.

Joy is as noisy as she ever was. She is forever coming down that hallway talking at the top of her lungs. Sometimes I wonder if she thinks we are hard of hearing. And then there is that thing she does in the middle of the night.

She gets off the bed and grabs one of her toys (they are hers, ‘cuz I don’t care for those noisy little squeakers) and does that growling-meow thing. Yeah right! She’s the queen of the jungle. She’ll keep it up too, right up until Linda wakes up, and then calls her. Then, she will finally go back to bed and lets us get back to sleep.

Between you and me and the fencepost, she tries to monopolize Linda’s time and lap and attention. I have had to learn that when I speak up, I get brushed and combed and loved as much as I want.

Now that you have a little understanding about Gemma from her view, let me fill you in on a couple of things I have noticed about her. She mentioned earlier that I have always been good about making sure they had plenty of fresh food, water, and kitty litter. And this is true.

What you don’t know is that when I go into the kitchen, she will walk in and check out her food bowl. It is one of those split bowls usually used for food on one side and water on the other. Since there are two feline babies in the house, I just fill both sides with dry food.

If there is the tiniest bit of the bottom of even one of the two-sided bowl showing through, she will sit and look at the bowl, then at me, and then at the bowl––and then at me until I see her.  She is not quite as adamant about the water bowls that are distributed throughout the house, but if they do get low she will also do her routine here.

The other area that I have always provided for is clean kitty litter. I have to admit that I do this as much for myself as I do for them. However, she is also the one who “reminds” me if she feels that I am taking too long to clean up their mess by sitting in the hall in front of the pantry (my second bedroom) starring at me and, if necessary, talking until I come to take care of it.

Today, she did her little routine with the food because she saw a hint of the bottom of the bowl on one side was peeking through. Now, the other side was full and overflowing (like piled an inch or more above the rim) as they hadn’t even touched the bounty there.

So to appease her (maybe she is right about me being trained), I grabbed the little scoop and as I was walking to the pantry I said: “I am not sure why you worry so much, you still have plenty…an overabundance really, on one side. I have never, in all the time you’ve known me, let you run out.”

The truth is I have seldom let it get close to empty.

It was at that moment as if God had tapped me on the shoulder and asked if there was anything in this situation that felt familiar. This one-sided conversation with her reminded me of how I, a woman of faith, a woman who speaks positive God-based words over her life, sometimes worries without cause over provision––provision of any kind, sometimes personal provision, sometimes business provision.

There are few people I know who don’t allow worry to slip in from time to time. The next time I do, I am sure that this interaction with Gemma and God will come to mind and I will remember that He has never let me run out of provision.

And like me with my girls, He provides more than I need (just like the overflow in the bowl). He does this lovingly, never wanting me to be without. I hope to remember the warm and generous feelings I have when providing for my little companions.

My feelings never run into negative obligatory feelings; instead, I not only feel responsible, but enjoy seeing them have what they want. This is a responsibility that I chose and I am filled with love that induces me to provide more for them than bare necessities––looking for that squeaky toy or catnip ball that will keep them entertained.

From now on, I will choose to replace any future worry with expectancy that God chose me and loves me more fervently than I do my little charges. God chose us and never feels put upon when we ask or expect from him.