Hate is a strong word and while I don’t necessarily “hate” cats I am certainly not what you would call a “cat lover”.
We have a cat named Harvey. Harvey is a female cat. She has a male name because when we got her we were told she was a male. Embarrassedly, we didn’t find out she was a she until we took her to the vet to have him neutered only to find out the term for female cats is “spayed”.
Harvey and I have what I would call a love hate relationship. He fairly regularly wakes me up at 4:30 in the morning because he wants to go outside. This morning he went outside woke me up at the regular time, crawled in through the upstairs window and at 4:45 in the morning, woke me up again. Thinking he wanted to go outside again, I took him downstairs only to find out that he woke me up because he was hungry.
I remember telling my grandmother one day, “The only thing cats are good for is tossing them in the air and watching them always land on their feet.” Her response stopped me in my tracks, “And you call yourself a Christian.”
I confessed to my wife and daughter the other day that I kicked Harvey, at 4:30 in the morning. It wasn’t a hard kick, like kicking him across the room or anything like that, but it was a kick none the less. I felt bad…kind of.
This morning my daughter shares a verse out of Proverbs with me. I love the Book of Proverbs because it is written by the wisest man to have every lived. Obviously my actions show that I am not wise at all.
A righteous man regards the life of his animal, But the tender mercies of the wicked are cruel.
Now why did she have to go and do that? Now I have to be nice to Harvey.
I know that some of you may be thinking by this picture, “How can you possibly dislike such an adorable creature?” Let Harvey spend a couple of nights at your house and at around 4:30 in the morning, you will understand.