Of Ginger Tabbies (and their mistresses)

"Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken.
If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal.
Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements.
Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness.
But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change.
It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.
To love is to be vulnerable."

  -- C.S. Lewis

Last Friday, our friend Sarah's cat went missing. She hasn't seen him for over a week now. She is grieving his absence, and fearing the worst. He is an exceptionally sweet and friendly ginger tabby (or "orange tabby" as we say in the U.S.). She got him two years ago when he was just a kitten and named him "Stilton with Ginger", or Stilton for short. Sarah's first year or two here were quite difficult -- her work load was very heavy, her living situation was not peaceful, and her health was unsteady. But by the time we arrived in Bunia in 2010, she had just moved into her own house, and she had this sweet kitten to keep her company. He has been a constant, affectionate companion ever since.

There are plenty of cats in Bunia, but the idea of a cat as a pet struck many Congolese people as odd. Life here is hard, people usually have so little money and so many family members to look out for that they can't afford to be very sentimental about animals. Cats are there to do a job -- to kill rodents. Also, cats are often associated with witchcraft. People who spend a lot of time with cats, or talk to them, or carry them around, may be assumed to be doing witchcraft with them. And then there are some groups who see cats primarily as food. (I won't explore that.)

Sarah addressed these issues directly with her friends and with her translation students, explaining the bond that Westerners have with their animals. They got a good laugh out of it. But over time, many who visited her also came to accept - and even appreciate - Stilton's presence on the chair or in their laps. Sarah's househelp had also become attached to him and would talk with him in the kitchen. When students and other friends have heard that Stilton is missing, they are very sympathetic and very sad.

Douglas and I have a bond with Stilton, as well. When he was still very small, Sarah and her roommate were both away for a couple of weeks, and we looked after him. He often spent time with us in the house where we were staying, and in the evening Douglas would walk him back down to Sarah's house where his food was. (He would often stand and wait for Stilton to eat, because if he left, Stilton would follow him back rather than eat his food.)

Ten years ago, in North Carolina, I also had an orange tabby, named Minou (he's in the top photo as a kitten, yawning). He was also very sociable, very affectionate, and I loved him. When it came time to move to Africa, I sold or gave away most of my belongings without too much difficulty. I said good-bye to friends and family. Which was hard. But the most gut-wrenching, guilt-inducing thing I had to do was to find a new home for Minou. I asked everyone I could think of, they asked everyone they could think of, but no one wanted him. Finally I had to take him back to the cat shelter I had gotten him from, because I was moving in temporarily with a friend where pets were not allowed. At Bible study, I cried and cried, because Minou was alone in a cage, and I felt sad and desperate and guilty. And my friends - even those who didn't like cats - were so kind and prayed and me and for Minou, because they saw how much he meant to me and how hard this was. Finally, he did find a home.

I heard about a young woman who worked with the Peace Corps in West Africa. She couldn't finish out her term because the suffering of animals that she saw there tore her up. Perhaps we as Westerners are too sentimental about our pets. Perhaps it's a sign of a culture where people are isolated from one another and turn to animals for affection and companionship. Perhaps it's a sign of the luxurious life we lead, that we can afford to care about the well-being - and even the feelings - of animals. But I know that it is God who gives us the capacity to love, both people and animals. I know what a joy Minou was for me when I was living alone, and I know what a companion and comfort Stilton was to Sarah.

Have you ever lost a beloved pet? Is the joy of having them worth the grief of losing them?