November 23rd, 2009

I loaded up my cats this past Saturday to take them to the Delta Cargo Warehouse where they would be shipped to Seattle, giving Kerry a day to acclimate them before my arrival on Sunday, my new home. I was supposed to get my cats there by 1pm for a 3pm departure. For the full 45 minutes in transit, I listened to the steady curdling cries of two scared cats who didn’t like being stuck in carriers, not knowing where they were going or why. On I85 I hit the usual gridlock downtown. The anxiety continued to grow, clouding my head with nothing but my cats cries to remind me how far I was from peace or contentment in my life. Was this whole journey West a monumental mistake? Satan had been gnawing at my soul for longer than I can remember, filling me with doubt in every facet of my life. A surge of anger rose within me and my thoughts turned to two quotes that I recently read from the opening page of C.S. Lewis’s Screwtape Letters:

“The best way to drive out the devil, if he will not yield to texts of Scripture, is to jeer and flout him, for he cannot bear scorn.” – Luther

“The devil….the prowde spirite…cannot endure to be mocked.” – Thomas More

I thought to myself, “satan how pathetic and manipulative you are, preying on the weakness of man, bringing nothing but sadness and emptiness…you were once beautiful until your own pride overcame you in place of worship for the one who gave it to you.” At that moment, I was puffing up my chess, mocking satan and ready to battle Satan for the low lying control-mongering serpent that he is.

Be careful for what you wish for.

My anxiety-level finally started to wane, and I had made my way to the cargo facility a full 30 minutes before schedule. I carried one carrier in each hand, using the top-side carrier handles provided. As I walked into the narrow door to the cargo facility, Sondre’s carrier caught the edge of the doorway, and the carrier clip–holding the top and bottom halves together–unhinged and created a domino-effect of the remaining clips to also unfasten, completely collapsing the carrier case into pieces. All of this happened in less than a second, and Sondre was thrown from the carrier and had the look of pure fear in his eyes. Sondre immediately began to sprint into the parking lot where nothing but the sounds and sights of construction overwhelming spilled in every direction as far as the eye could see: temporary steal fences, gravel, mounds of broken earth, heavy machinery, crates, canisters, cinder blocks and miles of warehouses, both completed and unfinished. I dropped Calvin’s carrier and ran in a mad dash in flip-flops for Sondre who was increasing his speed and distance between us. He ran without stopping, over 4 foot concrete walls, dodging any obstacle in his way for well over 200 yards. At this point, Sondre found a huge multi-ton dumpster and crawled to safety under its haul where there was less than one foot of crawl space between the concrete and dumpster’s underbelly. Looking underneath the massive crate, I could only see Sondre’s tail and a faint but constant cry. I say faint not due to Sondre’s calm but to the intense and dominating construction noise of the area. I made countless attempts to call Sondre out from underneath, but he would not budge. He was too scared to move or even point his head in my direction. This comes from a cat who will call on demand since a very young age. Fifteen minutes of heart-pounding drama had transpired, and I finally had recalled my earlier conversation with satan and my taunts and jeers…and now, satan’s response. I felt hopeless. A flood of my previous anxieties reappeared, and I did not know if I would be able to get Sondre out and now would probably miss their scheduled departure.

At about this time, two cargo attendants (one male, one female, both 40-ish) showed up on a golf cart. I explained the dire situation and had little advise on how to get him out. If I couldn’t get Sondre out by cooing him–his best friend in the world–then two strangers would only worsten Sondre’s fear and cause the cat a prolonged stay underneath this heap of trash. My fears were realized as the male attendant blocked off any crevasse where Sondre might be able to escape. His thought process wasn’t very thorough as his theory consisted of merely yelling at the cat and thinking Sondre would try to escape through the only space the airline crew had not blocked. This approach was flawed on several points, but namely, boxing him in would only increase his anxiety and thus make him less likely to come out, and there was no way to get to him.

It was now 1pm and I was certain that the 2 attendants were only making matters worst, but I also was certain that Sondre would now stay put as long as they were prodding him, and there was no concern for him to run again. At this point, I simply started to walk back towards the cargo area to see if I could get Calvin on the flight. I finally made my way back and hoped that Sondre could be coaxed out before nightfall. As I began to fill out Calvin’s information, another attendant on a golf cart approached the cargo area, and yelled out, “They’ve got the cat, and they need you to pick him up in the carrier.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. How could they have done it? I had EXPECTED the disaster, but I had NOT ANTICIPATED the blessing.

I arrived back at the scene where the female attendant had somehow fish-holed the rope underneath the dumpster–a feat in itself–and then again somehow over Sondre’s head with a noose slip knot. She then walked the unwilling cat from underneath the dumpster where Sondre was now laying beside the crate next to the lady’s leg with the rope tightly noosed around his neck. She wanted me to pick him up since Sondre had already bitten through her gloves. As I approached Sondre, he hissed, something I had never seen from him and certainly not directed at me. He was petrified, and I was still in awe of whatever cat whisper technique she had miraculously performed. The nightmare was over, and it was only a few minutes past 1pm. This salty, weather-aged lady had become my savior. I could see her surprise as I approached her with my tear-filled embrace, thanking her for her help.

What was going on here? I don’t know if it was merely “Jeff having a bad day followed by some luck.” Regardless, I was struck by some profound gratitude and higher awareness.

I found myself looking at this experience as an allegory whereby I was stuck under the trash-heap generated by satan but rescued by others who provided Christ-like help to a stranger.

The power of that message is still working on me. I feel amazingly blessed to be surrounded with love when all I saw was despair.