When we found out about Jack on Friday night, there was something in the email from our neighbor that just broke my damned heart. It wasn’t just that Jack was left to die in the rain, that much is a tragedy. It was how she put it.
“We said a prayer for him after we talked about how God probably needed a black kitty…”
See, here’s the thing, and I do apologize that if there’s a bit of radge coming through here: If God needed a black cat, he could have fucking made one appear. He’s God, not a hobo with a penchant for petty theft. God is omnipotent and omnipresent, which means he’s everywhere, and he knows what’s going on. He doesn’t need my cat, unless he’s some sort of hurtful capricious bastard (this is a point I’m willing to debate,) any more than I need one specific ant. It’s God’s world, but to suggest that he might need something so small from it? Stupendous, and a little bit offensive.
I know that we alter theological principles to fit our needs at different times, that as we grow more sophisticated, so too grows the logic we use. But telling me that? Made me angry. I’m not sure why it trips me up, but it does, and I needed to get that off my chest. Saying that God wanted my cat back, instead of saying, “Someone ran over my cat,” absolves that person of any responsibility.
I mourn my cat. I do.
