Road to Nowhere

The following article originally appeared at FaithWriters.com by the author, and can be viewed at:  https://www.faithwriters.com/wc-article-level4.php?id=58116

With all his black fur, it was hard to see what the problem was. Squinting, I leaned in closer. My son, Daniel, began to panic.

“What’s wrong with Batty?” 

I couldn’t tell exactly, and I was concerned. Our otherwise gregarious, happy-go-lucky, black cat sat awkwardly on the bed, his demeanor guarded, his right eye bulging slightly from its socket and deviating sideways. Had something bitten him? Did he swallow something poisonous? I could feel the fear digging into me as my brain scrambled to make sense of it. Just then, as if on cue, the tiny cuckoo bird emerged from his wooden house and serenaded us at the ten o’clock hour. 

I announced my intent to my husband, David.

“We need to take him to the emergency vet.”

He did not agree. 

“We’ll take him first thing in the morning. I’m too tired to drive tonight. No. First thing tomorrow.”

I, too, was tired — and irascible. I countered his argument with all the reasons I could think of as to why we should drive 30 minutes to the nearest all-night animal clinic. When that failed to persuade him, I accused him of being unsympathetic — both to the cat and our son. I was bound and determined to get my way. 

Stonewalled, he loaded Batty into the pet carrier and headed out to the car. Satisfied that I had won, I quickly slid my feet into the nearest pair of flip-flops, tossed my phone into my purse and followed him out to the car, our 10-year-old in tow. David loaded the heavy carrier into the backseat, shut the car door and started walking back to the house.

“You’re not coming with us?!”

I sounded incredulous, but I wasn’t. We were both dying on different hills now. My husband stood on the front porch, arms akimbo.

I put the car into reverse, sealing my decision. Batty let out a garbled protest faintly resembling his usual boisterous self. Concern flooded back into my heart at the sound of it, renewing my resolve. Batty isn’t just one of our cats, he’s our son’s favorite cat. I just couldn’t let anything happen to him. I was on a mission. I knew exactly where we needed to go. It was the same emergency vet we’d used before.

“Hold on, buddy. We’re gonna get you some help.” 

The truth is, I was as concerned about Daniel as I was for Batty. My gentle autistic son sat in the passenger seat, head in his hands, his chest heaving with tears of worry that his cat would die. As we got closer to the offramp, I assured him we were almost there. We took our exit and relief began to rise within me. Making the final turn towards our destination, I slowed down, scanning the buildings on the right. There it was just ahead. 

Relief had barely settled in when a feeling of dread spread through my body like black ink. The lights were out. They were closed! How could this be? They’re not supposed to be closed! Clearly, they are no longer a 24-hour pet hospital. Daniel looked at me, confused. 

“It’s fine. Everything is fine, honey. Where’s my phone? We’ll find the closest vet and go there.”

I quickly searched “emergency vet” and got a nearby result. One tap on the navigation link and we were headed in the right direction, our first left straight ahead. I made the turn and looked back at my phone. 

“You have got to be kidding me! My phone is…dead?!”

Dead as a doornail and no charger in the car. What was so logical less than an hour ago was now clear as mud. I felt alone, out of the protective care of my husband, no way to communicate, and, basically, lost. I knew I had made a mistake. Dogged, I drove around in search of the nameless vet of which I had no address, my exhausted child nodding off next to me, our pirate-eyed sick cat in the back, all to no avail. It was done. I was done. We returned home from our wild goose chase, having accomplished nothing -- but God had taught me much.

In my stubbornness I thought I could see clearly, but, really, I couldn’t see at all. David was right. I was wrong. And the cat? He is just fine.

“Wives, submit to your husbands, as is fitting in the Lord.” Col. 3:18 (ESV)

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The author welcomes Constructive Red Ink Critiques.