There is a wonderful episode of The Twilight Zone that features a hunter portrayed by the late Arthur Hunicutt. The hunter takes his dog and goes hunting, but both drown. The story relates how the hunter and his faithful dog make their journey to the hereafter. The farmer is almost lured by trickery into entering hell (which the gatekeeper tries to disguise as Heaven). The gatekeeper tells the farmer that dogs are not allowed in Heaven, so the hunter says he’ll just keep going down the road. A little further the farmer indeed finds Heaven, to which his dog is also welcome. The farmer can say that his dog literally saved him from Hell.
My mother loved cats. She said often that no house was a home without a cat. Over the years of my life with Mother, we had a virtual plethora of cats (thankfully, not all at the same time).
Her love of cats transferred to me. When I was younger, I used to get aggravated at our cats because there were just some of them that were not as approachable and loveable as I wished. It took me many years to develop the patience to allow a cat to become my friend.
For those of your Dear Readers who are cat lovers, it is no secret that no one chooses a cat—the cat chooses the people it likes. Many years ago Mother and I had a tom cat. I don’t remember how he came to be at our house. He was a petite little fellow, mostly white, but what endeared him to me were his beautiful blue eyes. I named him Wesley because I had a student in my class for a short time period named Wesley. Wesley the student was somewhat mischievous, but he had the blondest hair and the bluest eyes of any human I’d ever seen.
I really wanted Wesley (the cat) to be my friend, and he was pleasant enough. For whatever reason, it seemed my mother did not really like that particular cat. I never knew why. Wesley was more an outdoor than an indoor cat, and as all tom cats do he wandered throughout the neighborhood.
Wesley decided to move his residence to my former fifth grade teacher/most wonderful neighbor’s house. Ms. Polly and Wesley seemed to hit it off. For a couple of times I went to Ms. Polly’s house to bring Wesley back home, only to have him return to Ms. Polly’s at the first available opportunity. Ms. Polly didn’t mind at all, and though she fed Wesley well, he never turned out to be a big or fat cat.
As with most outside cats, Wesley died after a few years. Ms. Polly told me she buried him in her back yard, where the remains of many other pets found their final rest.
My mother’s last cat of the many she had during her time on Earth was a beautiful gray animal that neighbor Carol Lee Simmons said was a Russian blue. I suspect that someone gave her to Mother, though I was told she “just came here”. She, like all our other cats, was both an indoor and outdoor cat. Mother named her Baby, and how they loved each other. Baby slept each night on Mother’s pillow, right next to the top of her head.
When Mother went to the hospital and left her home for the final time on Saturday, May 29, 2004, Baby was on her own. I would see her and feed her on my occasional trips to the house, which became more infrequent as Mother’s death neared. It saddens me to this day that the first thing I saw as I pulled in the driveway on the day Mother passed was Baby, patiently waiting for her mistress who would never return. I was sure Baby had long departed. Mother was gone, but not Baby. I picked up the faithful creature and cried against her soft fur for the love the animal had for her friend who would not return, more love than Mother had known from most people in her life.
I kept Baby safely in the basement throughout the funeral. My neighbor Carol Lee’s cat had just died, so I gave Baby to her so she could continue to be a comfort and blessing to someone. Carol Lee loved Baby, and until Baby’s last days she was an indoor cat.
I visited Baby one memorable day at Carol Lee’s. I was holding her in my arms on the back porch, and Baby got down and took a little excursion through the back yard. Carol Lee was most fearful that the beloved cat would get away. Baby was smart—she knew she had it made, and never had intentions of leaving. She just wanted to feel the ground under her little paws once again.
Carol Lee enjoyed Baby for a few years until the cat became ill. I’ve heard Carol Lee spent over $2,000 trying to save the animal’s life, but she died. I’ve been told that Carol Lee had Baby cremated and kept the ashes in her dining room cabinet. After Carol Lee’s passing I would have loved to have had Baby’s ashes to sprinkle over Mother’s grave, but I just never could seem to approach Freddie Simmons with such an unusual request.
Finally the years have arrived for me to have my own Precious Kitty. She is a beautifully marked black and white domestic longhair. My wife rescued Precious from under an outbuilding at her house in Luttrell. My wife named her Precious. Though Precious has throughout the fifteen long years of her life as our house cat lived up to her name, I would never have given her that name. Precious loves moving lights and shadows, and I would undoubtedly have chosen the more masculine name Spook (she’s black and white) or Shadow.
When my wife first brought Precious home, I asked, “Why did you bring that thing into this house?” Little did Wifey know, but I was already taken with the helpless ball of fur. Her snow-white whiskers were literally bigger than she was! Her eyes were initially blue, like Wesley’s, but she matured to have the most gorgeous green eyes of any cat I’ve ever seen.
For the first twelve years of her life, Precious tolerated me. I used every opportunity to tell her what a beautiful creature she is, what a good kitty, what pretty little “footies” and whiskers she has, that pretty little nose (mostly pink, partially black).
Wifey decided to help me out. Though Precious is petite, weighing only about six pounds, she does love her food. The wife no longer feeds Precious—that is my job. And that had endeared the sweet creature to me. If she’s not taking advantage of one of her frequent naps, when she hears me come in the door she comes running. As a result, for the last three years Precious has become my lap cat. How blessed I am!
Now the wife sometimes complains that I think more of the cat then of her. She told me once that if I talked to her as sweetly as I talk to the cat, life between us would be different. Let’s just say that Precious is one of the few females I’ve known with which I have never had the shadow of a cross word.
Just for the record, Precious Kitty worships my wife, loves me, tolerates my nephew Joey, and despises every other living creature on earth. Oh well, nothing’s perfect!
I remember many years ago reading a response to a letter from a child written to Dr. Billy Graham asking if his deceased pet would be in Heaven. I remember Dr. Graham writing in his newspaper column My Answer that all creatures find their reward in God. I have not been able to find that exact letter, but I did find the following:

Scripture speaks of the future messianic kingdom that captivates our imagination: “The wolf will live with the lamb, the leopard will lie down with the goat, the calf and the lion and the yearling together; and a little child will lead them” (Isaiah 11:6). In that day, death and evil will be destroyed, perfect peace will reign, and everything that has breath, including animals, will praise Him (Psalm 150:6). What a day that will be! (Source: https://billygraham.org/story/will-there-be-animals-in-heaven-billy-gra… Retrieved July 9, 2024)

I’m sure if pets go to heaven that Wesley, Baby, Precious, my good childhood dog Brownie, and a host of other pets will be there.

ANSWER TO QUESTION OF THE WEEK # 23
What’s the difference between a hippo and a Zippo? ANSWER: One is really heavy and the other is a little lighter.
QUESTION OF THE WEEK # 24
What do you call a bee that can’t make up its mind? (See next week’s article in historicunioncounty.com for the answer.)