If Humans Aren’t Animals…

I don’t have an excuse to treat or think of any human being as an animal. What if the human doesn’t have a conscience? What if the human acts like an animal? What if the human lies and steals and cheats? What if the human makes absolutely no sense and is pretty well full of nonsense? He is still human. He still has a soul and spirit. He could benefit from prayer, even if I would rather ship him to the funny farm.

Why I Woke Up at Four in the Morning Worried about Frieda

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In our last Truth Project class, we dealt with the topic, “Who is Man?” Our worldview stems from our answer. If we take the Biblical view, we believe humans are created in the image of God with both flesh and spirit.

A humanist believes man is simply flesh, an animal in fact. The humanist puts me and the rest of mankind on the same plane as Frieda.

In the Biblical worldview, we humans were created with a soul and spirit. God created us with the ability to think, to reason, to experience emotions and to commune with Him. I don’t for a moment believe the humanistic lie that humans are animals who have merely developed a step beyond the ability to function by instinct.

But, just because I don’t believe I am an animal doesn’t give me the right to be cruel to animals, which is probably why I woke up at four in the morning worried about Frieda.

Frieda at the Farm

Frieda thinking about not coming out of the box.

Frieda on the woodpile.

Close-up of Frieda on the woodpile.

Frieda hasn't made any friends on the farm yet. She keeps to herself, eats after the other cats have eaten and runs if a human approaches. Amy's dad is determined to tame her.

She has had at least one run-in with the cat-eating dog. She lost a bit of fur, kind of like she used to lose fur in the kitchen when I accidently stepped on her (at least once a week).

Socks sat on my lap most of last evening as the family watched The Return of the King. Socks is a very people-oriented cat. He has only one fault--he likes what we eat. He is used to eating scraps of people food and is very much attracted to it. When he jumps up on the kitchen counter looking for food we thow him off repeatedly, sometimes 15 times in a row. Now he jumps down as soon as he sees someone approach.

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Frieda's Life on the Farm

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Amy reports that Frieda is acting like a three year old in a snit. She has two places to be: on top of the dog house and at the food dishes. She is not interested in any other places. The other cats are afraid of her. She is actually in a competition with the top cat who happens to be the mother of about 80 per cent of the cats on the farm. This top cat is about half the size of Frieda and she has claws. Nobody eats out of her dish. Frieda had chosen to challenge her—size and teeth versus claws. At latest report they were in a stand-off: two cats at the same dish, neither of them eating.

(pictures)

My Worries

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So why did I wake up at 4 in the morning worried about Frieda? What if the other cats don’t like her? What if the dog tries to eat her? What if she can’t kill rodents? What if her hair gets matted and she doesn’t take the time to clean it? What if she tries to return to the city and gets run over by a car on the way. Why am I worrying about this soulless creature?

(tomorrow - Frieda's new life)

Eye for an Eye, Cat for a Cat

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Well, Frieda left for the farm in the cardboard box shortly after five in the afternoon and it turns out she stayed in the opened box until well into the night long after Amy’s family went to bed. The cat-killer dog was tied up for the occasion.

Frieda is destined to be fed once per day and live in the barn with the other much smaller cats where she will work as a rodent exterminator. They call her The Beast. Until now, The Beast, alias Frieda, hasn’t worked a day or night in her life unless you count sneaking cookies and tarts out of the tupperware container on the kitchen counter.

The morning after Frieda left, Socks, alias Boots, showed up. He came in the same box Frieda had left in. Socks is a third the size of Frieda.

He follows me around the house.

Frieda never follows anyone except people who are scared of her.

Socks will sit on a lap forever or until the lap leaves.

Frieda might let a person she knows hold her for ten seconds.

Socks uses the litter box properly.

Frieda sometimes misses. On the farm she won't need this skill.

They both eat like animals.

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Frieda the Cat Becomes Frieda the Savior

I woke up at 4 o’clock this morning worried about my cat. What had we done? Yesterday we sent Frieda away in a cardboard box sealed with duct tape. She was off to her new home on the farm.

Yes, we traded Frieda for Socks alias Boots. (This wasn’t my evil plan as Amanda suggested when we phoned her after the deed was done.) But, I'll admit when my husband’s assistant Amy broached the idea, I adopted it immediately.

Amy’s family lives on a farm with farm cats, feral animals kept to exterminate the rodent population. Recently Boots showed up at the farm. He’s small, short-haired, loves people and is scared of the farm dog. This dog has a reputation as a cat killer, especially those who are scared of him.

Frieda is large, long-haired, seems to hate people except the ones that are scared of her, and would stand up to the dog (we think). So we traded. Staying on the farm meant a sure death for Boots. Frieda became his savior so to speak.

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The First Christmas Card of the Season

Last week I received my first Christmas card of the season. I opened it to discover I was one of the most faithful and generous friends of this particular charitable organization. This came as a surprise to me. I know I drop a few coins in their pot once a year and I may have paid for an unsolicited product or two, but most faithful and generous friend? I hope not...because if what I have given them is the most faithful and generous, they are in trouble.