This past Tuesday my family arrived home from a wonderful vacation to find a lonely cat and an awful smell. You see, we have two cats, but only one came to greet us. The other one, unfortunately, I found under our steps deceased. We're not 100% sure exactly what happened to our three-year-old cat, but he had a history of UTIs that we thought were stress-induced. Truth be told, he's never really acclimated to being a full-time indoor cat. Augustine, you will be missed! I am not, however, writing a eulogy for my cat, so I'll get to the point. I really want to discuss how this tragedy proved to be a powerful life lesson for my oldest daughter, Genesis.
Back to last Tuesday. I walked downstairs to make sure that our cats had enough food and found myself surprised by how much food was actually left in their bowls. Instantly I had a hunch that something was wrong. Actually, my hunch went back to when our other cat met us at the door, lonely and affectionate (she's sort of a jerk). Nonetheless, I walked around our basement calling out for my beloved feline, hoping against hope that he was okay. The last place I usually check is his hiding spot under the basement steps, and that was where I found him. At first I was relieved to have found him, but after I touched his hind legs and found them to be incredibly stiff, I knew instantly that he was dead. I just sort of backpedaled and sat down in my desk chair. I was very sad. You see, I am a consummate cat lover, as all of my friends well know. I loved that cat. He was a great cat! I am an adult though, so I didn't cry. Well, not until I heard my five-year-old daughter wailing outside. Then I cried.
Anyway, that's not the point. The point is that Genesis, who really hasn't known life without Augustine, was understandably distraught. She's a pretty dramatic kid as it is, so she expressed her distress loudly enough for most of our neighborhood to hear. I went outside and hugged her, both of us mourning our beloved Augie (I really, really love cats). Between sobs she was saying things like, "He was such a good kitty!" and "He would always cuddle you, Daddy!" By way of contrast, Galilee, our recently-turned-four-year-old, said, "I'm not crying because I'm not that sad." She really isn't old enough to process death yet (or worse, she'll end up as a dog-lover!). Observing this contrast struck me with the realization that Genesis had reached the age where we needed to capitalize on the death of our pet to teach her about the painful side of life, death.
As I dug a hole in our back yard in which to bury Augustine (don't bury a cat near a tree, by the way--there's way too many roots), Genesis continued to alternate between fits of tears and reminiscing. She said, "I don't want Augustine to be dead. He was just such a good kitty." Just for clarification, she asked, "Is he ever coming back?" I had to tell her that we would never see him again. When Bethany refused to let her see or pet his stiff carcass for fear of inflicting permanent emotional damage, she begged to see him one last time. She worried that Annie would be lonely or die and insisted that we get another black cat and name him Augustine. Bethany and I, my wife admittedly handling it much better than I, comforted her, but also instructed her about both the permanence of death, the fact that we won't see our pets in Heaven (I'm still crossing my fingers on that one!), and the hope that Christians have for the future.
I learned so much about parenting that day. I learned that if I, a grown adult, was struggling with a loss, my young daughter was struggling far more. I learned that parenting is not simply about plans and strategies for educating your children, but also about taking advantage of Providence to teach children about life. Parenting is about how you react to what life throws your way. I learned that sometimes you just have to let your kids cry, and sometimes you have to cry with them. I learned that five-year-olds can understand way more we think, but that you still have to communicate with them in a way to which they can relate. I learned, once again, that my children are very different and will deal with crises differently depending on their personalities and ages (one of the most heartbreaking parts was when Grace, our two-year-old, came out saying, "Bye Augie!"). I learned that parenting requires being there for the happy times and the sad times.
Augustine was a good cat. He is missed by all, including Annabelle (our other cat), but, I must say, even Genesis has made her peace with it. After crying a river of tears and burying his toy mouse and some flowers in his grave, she wiped her tears and took a bath. The ice cream and movie that Papa and Nana brought over probably helped the healing process, as well! As for myself, I still miss my Augie, but I am thankful for an opportunity to teach and learn from my children. I just hope we don't have to deal with that life lesson again for a while!
Back to last Tuesday. I walked downstairs to make sure that our cats had enough food and found myself surprised by how much food was actually left in their bowls. Instantly I had a hunch that something was wrong. Actually, my hunch went back to when our other cat met us at the door, lonely and affectionate (she's sort of a jerk). Nonetheless, I walked around our basement calling out for my beloved feline, hoping against hope that he was okay. The last place I usually check is his hiding spot under the basement steps, and that was where I found him. At first I was relieved to have found him, but after I touched his hind legs and found them to be incredibly stiff, I knew instantly that he was dead. I just sort of backpedaled and sat down in my desk chair. I was very sad. You see, I am a consummate cat lover, as all of my friends well know. I loved that cat. He was a great cat! I am an adult though, so I didn't cry. Well, not until I heard my five-year-old daughter wailing outside. Then I cried.
Anyway, that's not the point. The point is that Genesis, who really hasn't known life without Augustine, was understandably distraught. She's a pretty dramatic kid as it is, so she expressed her distress loudly enough for most of our neighborhood to hear. I went outside and hugged her, both of us mourning our beloved Augie (I really, really love cats). Between sobs she was saying things like, "He was such a good kitty!" and "He would always cuddle you, Daddy!" By way of contrast, Galilee, our recently-turned-four-year-old, said, "I'm not crying because I'm not that sad." She really isn't old enough to process death yet (or worse, she'll end up as a dog-lover!). Observing this contrast struck me with the realization that Genesis had reached the age where we needed to capitalize on the death of our pet to teach her about the painful side of life, death.
As I dug a hole in our back yard in which to bury Augustine (don't bury a cat near a tree, by the way--there's way too many roots), Genesis continued to alternate between fits of tears and reminiscing. She said, "I don't want Augustine to be dead. He was just such a good kitty." Just for clarification, she asked, "Is he ever coming back?" I had to tell her that we would never see him again. When Bethany refused to let her see or pet his stiff carcass for fear of inflicting permanent emotional damage, she begged to see him one last time. She worried that Annie would be lonely or die and insisted that we get another black cat and name him Augustine. Bethany and I, my wife admittedly handling it much better than I, comforted her, but also instructed her about both the permanence of death, the fact that we won't see our pets in Heaven (I'm still crossing my fingers on that one!), and the hope that Christians have for the future.
I learned so much about parenting that day. I learned that if I, a grown adult, was struggling with a loss, my young daughter was struggling far more. I learned that parenting is not simply about plans and strategies for educating your children, but also about taking advantage of Providence to teach children about life. Parenting is about how you react to what life throws your way. I learned that sometimes you just have to let your kids cry, and sometimes you have to cry with them. I learned that five-year-olds can understand way more we think, but that you still have to communicate with them in a way to which they can relate. I learned, once again, that my children are very different and will deal with crises differently depending on their personalities and ages (one of the most heartbreaking parts was when Grace, our two-year-old, came out saying, "Bye Augie!"). I learned that parenting requires being there for the happy times and the sad times.
Augustine was a good cat. He is missed by all, including Annabelle (our other cat), but, I must say, even Genesis has made her peace with it. After crying a river of tears and burying his toy mouse and some flowers in his grave, she wiped her tears and took a bath. The ice cream and movie that Papa and Nana brought over probably helped the healing process, as well! As for myself, I still miss my Augie, but I am thankful for an opportunity to teach and learn from my children. I just hope we don't have to deal with that life lesson again for a while!
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