- Godwin Cotter
Spaying the Cat
The are two kinds of people: those who love cats and those who are rational, logical and sane. Thomas Jefferson once said “I tremble for my country when I remember that God is just.” I, likewise, tremble for my country because of the overwhelming presence of cute cat videos on the internet.
But anyways, a little over a year ago, (about the time I started the Repentance comic) as often happens, the voice of reason and intelligence was over-ruled by the majority. We got a cat. “Horrible the Cat” lived up to her name but only I was able to see this self-evident truth. Only I was able to grasp the obvious.
But lo and behold, a discussion arose on whether to spay Horrible, the Cat. I was against it. There was something mean and cruel about not letting Horrible have her chance of being a mom cat. I am by no means pro-cat, but if we are giving a home to one, let the cat be a cat.
The rest of the family was pro-spay. Their thinking was that Horrible might slip out the door or run away, especially when there was a Tomcat in the vicinity. She would get in crazy moods and start doing zoomies and the like that you see in cat videos. Ultimately, the pet owners as a committee (the other family members over-ruled me), feared for the cat’s safety and happiness. Cats that leave the house sometimes get run over or get lost. I didn’t think that was likely but if it was to happen, Que sera, sera. We can’t bubble-wrap ourselves and others from trouble. Cats and men are bound for trouble “as sparks fly upwards” as the good book says in Job 5:7.
Our family wrestled with the spay question, twice cancelling spay appointments, but the third time is a charm, Horrible got spayed.
Now Horrible is a different cat. She sits for hours by the door but doesn’t really know why. She seems to be kind of confused. Her life revolves around the food dish. She is constantly trying to guilt us into refilling it and she is getting fat. She is safe but seems depressed.
As a Canadian, I am starting to identity with Horrible the Cat. (No, I don't want to be referred to as a feline, I just feel for that annoying, horrible fur-ball). Concern for our safety has kept our Canadian butts firmly planted on our sofas, and we've been house-bound. It has stopped us from meeting others, prevented us from forming or deepening relationships (that's always been hard for the Canadian temperament) or even simply being who we are meant to be. To talk to people we have to stare at a screen the way our cat stares forlornly at a door or a window.
In Canada, a 90 year-old senior chose assisted suicide over the solitary confinement that is part and parcel of the lockdowns. In Canada, the state will assist you to commit suicide. Yet fear of us dying of Covid-19 got us all put under house arrest. Soren Kierkegaard opined that we will be either anxious or bored. You may hazard a guess what choice the Canadian government has made for us. They pulled in the Emergency Measures Act about a bunch of parked trucks occasionally honking horns in the nation's capital. I wonder if you need to be triple vaxxed with an up-to-date vaxport to be assisted in a safe suicide in a well-lit Canadian hospital room. Probably. What type of background music do they play in these sanitized environments? Do they play “Oh Canada”, or do they have a live feed of the Canadian parliament in session, or cat videos perhaps? But I digress and will go back to the important topic of keeping us safe. (Please don't fall into the unwarranted conclusion that Canada is being run by Safety Nazi's.)
And now, all over North America, politicians end the speeches whether barn-burner or snooze-fest (the most common) with “stay safe”. No more “God bless you” or “God bless America”, simply “stay safe”. I keep remembering our neutered cat who is safer than she has ever been.
Is God is telling us to “stay safe?” Some how I don't think so, perhaps He is saying quite the opposite. And who loves us more, God or our elected officials?
