There once was a cat named Babs...

Few people understand the value and place of a pet in a family. We didn't have lots of animals when I was young. But we did have a dog. And my sister had a cat. And then, when I was eight, I finally convinced my parents to let me take home a the little white runt of the litter from a family friend's farm.

And so Babs "became a Berg" that summer of '92. And she became my baby, my princess, my special little cumquat.

I could wax long about her quirks, but I realize that no one, save those in my immediate family, would care or understand.

And, as few of people understand the value and place of a pet in a family, fewer yet fully understand the loss of one.

And so forgive me as I type this post for myself. And for my parents who gave greatly of themselves to care for my cat the past few months. She was a special one for sure...who had a place for me in her heart as much as I have one for her in mine.

And so. I don't have a good way to end this. I'm just thankful that she's no longer struggling. And I'm thankful that God used my little runt as His tool for healing. And I pray, just in God's style, that He would continue to bring fullness of life even through death.