My Pet Worry Warthog

Yesterday or the day before some speaker on the local Christian station was listing ways you can test the quality of your Christian walk. Number One on the list was, "Is God the first thing you think of when you wake up in the morning? Is your first thought to thank Him for giving you the new day and to dedicate it to Him?"

Yes, that would be ideal. But this morning I woke in the guest bedroom (where I slept to work on bonding with the kittens) and my first cogent thought was about how absurdly hard and fast my heart was slamming against my ribs. It felt as if I’d been fleeing for my life up a hill.

I know what it is, of course. It’s useless worry and anxiety.

Among other things, that anxiety arose from the sight and sound of the kittens Gwenith and Huw wrestling and play-fighting one another on the floor. Three times this past week I’ve witnessed Huw seeming to hyperventilate for a few seconds, as if he were trying to hack up a hairball and couldn’t. I tripped over a video online a week or two ago of a cat doing what looked just like that, and the label said the cat had feline asthma. Oh, God, please don’t let Huw have asthma!

You can treat it with inhalers and so on. But the kittens’ pet insurance won’t be properly in effect until after I get them their follow up check up and shots two weeks from next Tuesday. If Huw has asthma diagnosed then, it becomes an existing condition and the insurance won’t help pay for the treatment.

If I say nothing and he does have it, that’s dishonest. Also, if he’s sick and gets his shots, that can be very harmful to him, as the vaccines are warranted only for healthy animals.

But if I say, "I think Huw has feline asthma," might I not then run the risk of putting the vet on the wrong track?

I guess I just have to keep an eye on him between now and then. And watch for any signs of air deprivation. Maybe he is just trying to hack up a hairball, and hasn’t got the hang of it.

But this morning, I watched the kids wrestling, and my sleep-ridden fears said "Oh, what if he doesn’t have much longer to do that sort of thing! What if his sister won’t leave him alone and sends him into a major attack or seizure!" What if, what if , what if.

So I lay there in bed at 7:30 this morning, knowing I should think first thing of God and His mercies, and concious of my galloping worried heart instead.

Well, no excuse. "Cast your cares upon the Lord, for He cares for you." Even if your cares have to do with the health of a nine-week-old barn kitten . . .