It started about fourteen years ago. Our neighbor’s daughter and her husband brought a cat carrier into our house to give us the kittens they’d promised us. When the carrier opened, the first one out was a grey tabby cat named Tigger. We didn’t think Tigger, or his brother Velvet were kittens at all. They looked like full grown cats! But their continued growth proved they were indeed kittens when they arrived.

    We immediately saw Tigger was a talkative cat. He wasn’t five feet from the carrier when he started to tell us off. He never stopped talking from that moment on.  Tigger was also a beautiful cat. His coat was soft, sleek, and beautifully patterned. His whiskers were two toned, each one being both black and white.

    It didn’t take us long to fall in love with “the boys.” They filled the house with love, play, and kitten races. Tigger’s brother would try to throw him off in a race by going around a box or two. But Tigger cleared each obstacle with a four foot plus vertical jump, from a standing position. And at the top of each jump, there was visible hang time.

    More cats have joined us since Tigger arrived at our house. The two cats that live at the manse with me almost worshiped him. All I had to do to get them into the carrier was to tell them they were going to see Tigger. But even with five cats in the house, Tigger stayed Tiggerish. He never stopped running and he would often drag a long string around the house, howling at the top of his lungs all the while. We called the string his blankie. When the blankie vanished, Tigger simply adopted other toys to use for the same purpose.

    I could go on and on about Tigger. He was affectionate, with a purr as loud as his howl. He always recognized my daughter, and ran to the door to greet her, even if she had been away at school for months. I used to tease him by telling him he was the best Tigger in the whole house. That was really not correct. To us, he was the best Tigger in the whole world. He will always be in my heart.

    A few months ago Tigger was diagnosed with cancer. Each time I traveled away to the town where I work, I thought I would never be able to hold him and pet him again. But he was always ready to be loved when I returned home . . . until today.  Tigger died in the vet’s office this morning, while being petted by two members of his family.

    I cannot believe God would make such creatures, ones who show forth God’s love with their whole being, only to let them end. I believe I will see, hold, and pet, Tigger again. The Irish say those who go before us live in the “many colored land,” a place where occasionally they stray to the edge of the meadow to watch us here. Those of us who love pets, also speak of the rainbow bridge.

"When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.

All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.

They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.

You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together....

Author unknown. "

    This is getting hard to write Tigger. The screen keeps blurring and the reason is not found anywhere but in my eyes. God be with you Tigger. Wait at the bridge for us. And Tigger, you’re the best Tigger in all of God’s creation!

     "Idleness is the enemy of the soul; and therefore the brethren ought to be employed in manual labor at certain times, at others, in devout reading." - Rule of Saint Benedict, Chapter 48

    It has been a long time since I've written here. There is a good reason, and a bad reason for that.  Both reasons involve the Benedictine watchwords, "Ora et labora," prayer and work.

    In early March, I began a full time interim of two  yoked congregations. Things have been really busy. That wasn't really a surprise as I knew that being part time pastor for two churches would turn out to be at least one and a half of the work of a full time pastor. What was the surprise was the way it changed my prayer life. Being this busy has made me more intentional about the hours of prayer. And the combination of work and prayer have begun to merge.  I think I am beginning to understand, and taking a small step toward the rhythm Benedict intended.

    But Benedict also preached moderation in all things. And when I saw how long it had been since I posted on this blog, I knew my balance was still a bit off. So Father Benedict, I confess I have let one part of work push out others. I intend to mend that in the future.