Friends, Not Pets
We make habits, the cat and I. I come to my home office early; no one else is out of bed yet. Bekah’s cat quickly joins me, jumping onto my desk to brush her tail across my face. She prods at my morning medicines, and I rebuke her, moving her to the floor. I’ve learned if I cover the pills with paper, she doesn’t notice them. We might say she is “training” me to hide my pills. I’m “training” her to get off the desk when I’m writing. Her interruptions are an irritant, yet I rarely put her out of the room. Cat and man must both be gaining something from the interplay. Repeated patterns of behavior congeal into habits.
The scene may be repeated throughout the day, but once Sarah or Bekah or the dog are up and about the cat is more easily discouraged. She has others to play with, so she doesn’t need to interrupt me. For the most part, it’s an early morning routine.
The dog and I display other habits. Mileena flaps her ears in the night; the sound wakes me. I pad to the back door to let her out. Once she’s completed her business in the back yard, she pushes through the doggy door, or, if ice has stiffened the door, she barks. I let her in and we go back to bed.
Later I’m at work in the office. Mileena may nap on her blanket, but when she thinks it’s time, she whines. I look at her. “In a few minutes,” I say. If the few minutes go on too long, she whines again. “Okay, okay,” I say. I put on shoes, don my coat, and fetch a plastic bag. Mileena knows these signs and eagerly waits for me to hook up her leash. We go for a walk. She does her business and I use the bag to pick it up. Supposedly, I “trained” Mileena to take walks. But it often seems she determines when we should go.
It's afternoon now. Mileena sleeps, snoring, on her blanket. The cat pads her way to the window, using my desk as route. So long as she doesn’t sit between me and the monitor, I’m okay with this.
We make habits with our pets. And there is a kind of fitting affection between us.
Someone might speculate that our relationship with God parallels our relationship with pets. I have it on good authority this is not so.
Jesus taught us to call God our Father. He told his disciples they were his friends. The love we have for God and the love God has for us is not the affection of a man for his pet. It is like family love (storge in Greek); it is like friendship (philia).
It is natural that storge and philia would manifest themselves in habits. We see such habits in families and friendships often.
*Hugs and handshakes. “I love you.”
*Quiet jokes. Laughter.
*Game nights. I’ll host this time.
*Phone calls and emails.
*Meals together.
*Advice sought, given, accepted.
*Saying sorry. Forgiving.
Remember, it is Jesus who said God is Father; Jesus who said we are his friends. I’m not sure all that it means, but we are not God’s pets. Nevertheless, there will be habits appropriate to children and friends.
*We ask God to forgive us. He does, though sometimes we struggle to believe it.
*We pray for guidance. We listen for the divine voice in worship, study, and contemplation.
*We delight in God’s gifts—nature, friends, existence, grace. We laugh in wonder at the goodness he is.
*Meals with people often become reminders. Our Father is present.
*We learn to see the third member in all our human friendships. For Christians, it is never just you and me; he is here too. (I got this idea from Bonhoeffer.)
I’m sure this is only a beginning list. What habits ought I to seek with my Father, my Friend?
