My oldest son had an especially difficult summer. When fall arrived, I expected his mood to brighten with the change of seasons. But it didn’t.

Then one morning, he found a black kitten on our doorstep. She was a fuzzy ball of cuteness, and Elijah took her right into his heart. Blackie lived in the house as much as out of it. When she wasn’t being held by one of the children, she scurried all over the house and pooped on my living room curtains.

(I didn’t like that too well, because I hate washing and ironing curtains!)

A week later, she was gone. I suppose she was an itchy-footed kitten, on to brighter horizons. But she did not consider my son’s feelings when she trotted away.

Elijah was devastated. One day he told me, in tears, “Blackie brings me comfort when I’m feeling bad. You don’t understand how it feels that she is gone!”

Lord, have mercy, I prayed. Bring this kitten back even though she squats on my curtains!

But she didn’t come back.

Later that week, our family was in Pratt for homeschool co-op. As we left, I whispered to Will, “What if we’d go to the humane society and get a cat for Elijah?”

Out of that building of bars and barking, we emerged with Lily. (She is litter trained, thank you Lord!) This is how Lily spends her days:

Both of them are happy.