“I’m Just Here for the Cats”

Every word of God proves true.
He is a shield to all who come to him for protection.

“WHOSE HOUSE IS THIS AGAIN?” thirteen-year-old Ella asked as she stood with her family outside of a two-story white French Colonial in Key West, Florida.

“Ernest Hemingway’s,” her eighteen-year-old brother, Andrew, answered. “He lived here with his wife Pauline from 1931 to 1939.”

Ella spun around, surprise lighting her eyes. “How did you . . .?” And then she spied the informational sign her brother was reading from. “Cheater!” she teased.

Jen laughed at the playful banter between her two children.

“And Ernest Hemingway was a famous author, right?” Ella clarified.

“Yep. You’ll read The Old Man and the Sea in school next year,” Andrew replied.

“I’ve never heard of his books before,” she said with a shrug. “But it doesn’t matter. I’m just here for the cats.”

It was the third day of their seven-day family getaway in the Florida Keys—a trip to celebrate Andrew’s high school graduation. And while Jen knew that neither of her kids were big fans of touring old houses while on vacation, she suspected the six-toed cats that occupied Hemingway’s house would intrigue them. Jen watched her son point something out to his sister.

How did it go so fast? Jen wondered for the hundredth time. I was just dropping him off at kindergarten. How could it be time for him to go to college?

A familiar tightness gripped Jen’s throat as a barrage of what-ifs began their assault.

What if he’s not ready?

What if we didn’t teach him everything he needs to know?

What if he turns his back on what we did teach him?

What if . . .

“Uh, Mom?” Andrew asked, interrupting her thoughts.

He nodded to the person awaiting payment for their admission tickets to the house.

“Oh, sorry,” Jen said, handing her credit card to the petite woman.

Stepping through the front door of Ernest Hemingway’s Key West home was like stepping back in time. Jen could easily picture the author pacing the wood floors as he contemplated his latest manuscript, throwing open the front door to welcome friends for dinner, or relaxing on the front porch.

“Mom! I found a cat!” Ella squealed.

Jen found Ella crouching beside a beige-and-black striped cat. The cat had the strangest paws Jen had ever seen. They appeared to have a fur-covered thumb. Ella’s face was beaming.

After spending several minutes photographing and petting the unique-looking and docile cat, they continued their self-guided tour. Each room seemed to contain more cats than the one before. Three cats slept soundly on Hemingway’s bed. Four dozed in the cordoned-off kitchen. Two were stretched out precariously along the windowsill in an upstairs washroom. And two more kept watch from under the claw-foot tub.

“So, how exactly did they all get here?” Ella asked, as she paused to pet a black-and-white cat lying underneath a movie poster for A Farewell to Arms.

Andrew had read every informational sign in the house and scanned their QR codes, so he had the answer on his phone:

“Hemingway got his first polydactyl cat—that’s what the six-toed cats are called—from a ship captain. Hemingway liked the cat so much that he asked the captain to bring him another one when he returned. And then another. Pretty soon the writer had lots of them. Oh, by the way, they don’t all have six toes, but they all carry the gene for it.”

Jen read a nearby sign out aloud. “Hemingway had a hard life and fought a lot of demons, but he found comfort in his cats. He promised that he would always take care of them and provide a home for them.”

“Looks like he kept his promise,” Ella said.

When the family ventured outside, there were cats everywhere they looked. Some slept under trees, others along walkways, and a few were curled up in front of headstones in the cat cemetery.

“You really did keep your word to them,” Jen whispered reverently, running her hand over a heart etched into a headstone.

As Ella and Andrew went off in search of more cats, Jen knelt down beside an orange tabby cat. As she stroked the cat’s thick fur, she smiled at the image of her eighteen-year-old son running excitedly with his little sister through Hemingway’s gardens.

“God,” she whispered in her heart, “I know you love him even more than I do, that you have a plan and a purpose for him, and that you keep your promises. Help me to take you at your word. And help me to trust you to hold him close so that I can start to let go.”

Jen wiped her eyes before joining her kids.

“Want to head over to the gift shop to get one of Hemingway’s books?” she asked, throwing her arms over her kids’ shoulders.

“Nope,” Ella said without hesitating. “I’m just here for the cats.”

PAWS & PONDER . . .

Spend time reflecting on some of God’s promises in the Bible. If you need inspiration, consider Isaiah 41:10, Jeremiah 29:11, Psalm 32:8, Matthew 11:28-29, John 3:16, and 1 John 1:9. Which promise speaks most clearly to your heart today? Do you trust God to keep his word? In what areas do you need help to trust him more?

Paws & Pray

God, every word you speak is true. Every promise you make is good. Lord, I give you my doubts, my fears, and my insecurities, and I ask for your peace, joy, and strength in return. Whisper your promises to my heart and help me cling to them.