Why Work?

The Union County Public School System lost one of its very best teachers to retirement this year. Not only was Ms. Kerrie Scruggs a wonderful educator, she was a caring person and good friend. Ms. Kerrie’s husband Steve wrote a book, and my fellow Gideon brother gave me a copy. The book explained why Steve’s father always ate a good lunch at work. I’ll return to that thought shortly.

In my case, sometimes the simplest tasks can turn into the most aggravating ordeals. Picture it. I’m on a task to buy my Precious Kitty some cat food. Like lots of cats, Precious is a most finicky animal. For years she would eat only dry cat food, and then only certain brands. My wife tried a few moist types of food as she was certain that dry food only was not good for the cuddly creature’s digestive system. All efforts met with snubs.

There was a brief (very brief) time that it seemed Precious was going to take a liking to the liquid drained from Vienna sausage. Fleeting . . . transitory. Tuna? No.

Anything that her human parents eat catches her attention. She will jump up on the arm of the couch or chair next to my wife when she is eating. She will sit a respectful distance away, her cute little nose wrinkling as she investigates via her sense of smell. That only works for a split second, as my wife cannot endure her cat’s nose in her food.
Precious has better luck with me. I like to watch her attempts to investigate my food, and I know from past experience she would not eat one bite were I to shove it down her little kitty throat. Precious just likes to know what is going on. I’ll let her sniff, but I draw the line when she wants to lick my food with her little cat’s tongue.

Nevertheless, after years of searching my wife found a brand of moist food that Precious will eat—Sheba. Not the patè, only the cuts. There has been more than once that I made the mistake of buying patè, only to either return it to the store for an exchange or refund (I have found the local Dollar General Store very accommodating, and I am most appreciative.) Perhaps Precious knows more than I think. There was one occasion in which I could not make an exchange or get a refund (the exact reason escapes me now). I gave the patè that Precious would not eat to my neighbor for her cat. It was less than a week later that the neighbor’s cat was hit and killed by a car.

Not that this is likely to happen to Precious. I can literally count on one hand and have fingers left the number of times her kitty paws have touched actual dirt. Precious is a totally inside cat, and it has resulted in a long life for the loveable (only to her human parents) creature. She will be twelve years old in May of this year.

There are times that Precious can be so charming. I love the times when she hears me come in the door and she gallops to meet me. Who but the hardest-hearted person doesn’t melt when their dependent, loving house pet comes to meet them at the door.” Precious is the only cat that ever did this just for me. Like the typical cat, this doesn’t happen every day, only when it is convenient for the animal.

Then there are those times that she will cuddle on the footrest of my recliner. She always starts on the very farthest edge, then over the span of perhaps ten minutes she will turn around several times and work her way close to my shin. She likes to be close, but not enough to be petted. If I pet her, she will move away. Who but the hardest-hearted person would not melt when their best furry friend wants to snuggle close at the end of a hard day? Very comforting.

And there are the entertaining times. Precious almost starved when she was a kitten (her mother was killed by a car and the kittens couldn’t be found for a while.) My wife rescued Precious and fed her with a washcloth soaked in milk when she was too weak to eat. Precious obviously remembers this—she adores Mary Ann, she likes me. It seems Precious’ life is reversed—she acts younger with age. She loves to sit in the sunshine coming through the window and roll on the carpet. Sometimes she will let me rub her chin or stomach, but only for a short time, and she might just want to nibble on a knuckle when she decides “enough of that!”

Precious loves shadows. She will chase a shadow or penlight across the floor for great amounts of time with almost endless interest. There was a time when there was a tornado warning. We were all huddled in my stepson Dustin’s closet. I felt something jump on my leg and climb my body in the darkness. Mary Ann was shining her penlight on my pants, and Precious was following the light, oblivious to the fact that we all might be sharing our last few minutes before nature erased us from the earth.

Precious loves to look out the window. I feel sorry for her sometimes when I think that she never has been able to enjoy the outdoors--running in the grass, chasing birds. But then I think, who is the prisoner here? Precious does not have to work or even hunt for her food. Her food bowls (all three of them) are always filled with food, her water bowl rarely runs dry. All she has to do is eat, sleep, poop and pee. And she has over the years even managed to make the shower in my deceased stepson’s bathroom her litter box. Guess who gets to clean that?

So back to my aggravating task. I went to several stores the other day to buy my cat her favorite moist food. At least two stores (the local Dollar Store and Food City) were completely out of that particular brand, and the other brands were low. I was beginning to think, “Are times getting so bad that people are having to eat this cat food?” (I have to admit, it smells better than a lot of food I eat myself! I finally found the product that would allow me to make my cat happy every morning before I leave for work.

Steve Scruggs said his dad had a nice lunch at work every day because that was thirty minutes he took each working day for his own pleasure. The rest of his life was devoted to working to provide for his family and doing the things that made him a good husband, father, church and community member. If I have any doubt as to why I work, I received a sign from a friend this past Christmas that spelled it out for me—“I work hard so my cat can have a good Christmas!” However humble it may be, everyone needs a purpose in life.