kitten sitting

I’ve been kittensitting for Princess this weekend. I’ve also been studying for my server tests at Texas Roadhouse, so the kitten heard about what sauces come with the Tater Skins appetizer and which toppings are on a Smothered Chicken dinner. I don’t know if she learned much, but she did seem to enjoy chewing on my notecards. All’s well that ends well.

She’s a funny little kitten, chitters when she’s mad and scratches when she’s happy. Loves to play, but isn’t a big fan of being petted. As the long weekend without Princess wears on, though, the kitten is becoming more open to a little stroking. Last night, we watched Jesus Christ, Superstar together, and she spent the movie nibbling my toes and stealing popcorn to bat around on the floor. Tonight, we watched All About My Mother, and she alternated between batting toys and snuggling with me, generally positioning herself between my face and the TV screen. Unfortunate, since the movie is in Spanish and I was trying to read subtitles, but how can I be angry at a kitten who wants to snuggle?

I’ve got scratches and toothmarks across my hands from the kitten, striking my inflated ego as stigmata-esque. She doesn’t have any other kittens to wrestle with, so human hands take her siblings’ places. She chews on my fingers in turn, pawing at whichever one seems to be wiggling most in the moment. I’ve been using our wrestling periods to get in a little petting on the sly- wrestle with one hand, stroke her ears with the other.

Yesterday, she would put up with the petting for a little while, then twist to try to chew both hands at once. I don’t know what made the difference this evening- perhaps loneliness- but she would rest a bit in my hand and sneak in a purr while I petted her. She wouldn’t stop for long, though. A small respite, then back to the chewing and clawing, fighting my hand with every ounce (or perhaps tablespoon) of strength in her little kitten body. Just the same, she enjoyed me petting her while we fought.

In my theology nerd way, this made me wonder how often I do the same thing to God. Chomp on fingers and gnaw on toes? Sure! Slink around the top of the couch and pounce on a flashing ponytail? No problem! Snuggle and sit quietly? Well... not so much. So much of my relationship with the Spirit is focused on chewing and wrestling, and the kitten made me wonder if I could be focusing more on the purring and waiting to be petted.

Do you think that God giggles when I wiggle my butt before pouncing on my favorite toy? Or sighs when I curl up on her chest, nose under her neck and purr, and feels a bit lonely when I go? Does God even wonder why I set my loneliness threshold so high that I'd rather fight over nonsense than admit that I really just want my ears scratched?