Prayed for a Pete and got a Pepper Part I

Dogs are the best; God’s gift to humankind. Cats? They’re too independent and unpredictable. One second, it’s a purring extravaganza, the next you’re lunch. With dogs, they always love you no matter how much of an idiot you are. Cats ignore, dismiss, and spurn. Dogs aim to please. Cats care about pleasing you as much as they care about dogs.

And for those reasons, I have never been a cat person.

That was until I met Pete, a slightly rotund, black and white tuxedo cat with green eyes, and an unceasing desire to cuddle who challenged my long-held belief.

Pete trotted out of our bushes the day we moved into our house in August 2022 with a fervent meow as if to say, “Thank goodness you’re finally here!” Unfamiliar with cat behavior, I cautiously reached down to pet him and he eagerly rubbed his cheek on my hand. Pete didn’t want to dismember me, he wanted to be loved. My daughter Reese scooped him up into her arms and he offered no resistance. All bets were off when Pete rested his adorable fluffy white paws on her shoulder, closed his eyes, and purred with satisfaction. Since that day, Pete has had the three females of our household securely wrapped around his thumbs, that is if he had any.

The male of our family, Brian, however, was not smitten with Pete and made it clear where he stood on the matter.

“Do not let him in the house, he could have fleas,” he commanded.
“But Pete’s hungry and wants to cuddle!” we wailed.
“He is not our cat. He has a home somewhere and that’s where he belongs,” Brian declared with finality.

After some digging, we discovered Pete was a feline neighborhood wanderer. He wooed treats and beguiled affection from soft-hearted neighbors all the while maintaining a residence in the house behind ours. For Pete, life was too good on the “streets” – no need to go to his actual home. After all, when we moved in Pete found his honeypot, and boy did he know it: treats, cuddles, and more treats. Pete was hanging out on our deck so much he started measuring for drapes.

In my defense, I was vulnerable. Only a few months earlier, our beloved dog Hank was put down after suffering a stroke. The heartbreaking sorrow from feeling his heart stop as I hugged him was still fresh; my tears just a memory away from flowing all over again. Hank was my first and only dog and he was gone. I couldn’t hold his adorable face in my hands and give him kisses anymore. No more couch cuddles. No more walks searching for ducks. No more anything with my sweet boy. I was devastated. So when Pete showed up, I was putty in his paws. He was more than happy to be the recipient of the affection I’d missed giving Hank and I was more than happy to give it. Cuddling with Pete was a balm for my heart.

But no matter how attached to Pete I became or how I tried to show Brian that Pete should be our cat (“See? Pete walks right inside the house! He wants to be our cat!”), Brian wasn’t budging.

“Pete is never going to be our cat. He belongs to someone else.” More of that crushing finality, like when you were ten and your parents said no to whatever it was you desperately wanted more than anything in the whole wide world.

Not making any headway, I needed some divine intervention. So, I prayed.

I prayed that God would soften Brian’s heart to Pete and allow me to bring him into the house. I admit it felt foolish praying for such a thing, but I desperately wanted Pete to be my cat. However, after numerous “pretty please” invocations it became clear God was on the side of Brian. His answer: a big fat holy, “nope.”

When you’ve been praying for as long as I have, you learn when God says no, it’s best to let it go and move on; which I did, but not without sadness, disappointment, and an ache in my heart. However, at the same time, I came to understand that Brian was right; Pete wasn’t our cat and it would have been wrong for me to take him away from his rightful owners. I wouldn’t have wanted someone to do that to Hank (although I considered it after the Bedroom Carpet Diarrhea Multi-Accident Catastrophe of 2017). So that’s how I landed; accepting that if I wanted to cuddle with Pete, I’d have to sit outside, sometimes bundled up, to do it.

And so it was until on a chilly October afternoon in 2023 it happened…a curled-up, tiny black and brown ball of fur appeared in our driveway.

Much to my surprise, it appeared God’s “no” wasn’t His final answer. He had something else in mind.