Mick and Sam are my boys at home. With short hair, Mickey outweighs the fluff of Sam by a good 5 pounds, and both are reminders of summer orange crème cicles. My boys. They fill each sad and lonely moment with chasing and flipping antics. They are sunny streaks across my life. They are just cats. They complete my family.

Kurt and Ninette take excellent care of the boys when I'm travelling. One word springs to mind as folks learn Ninette's name for our mountain cabin-like home -- perfect! Sugar Shack is charming, nestled among redwoods with plenty of sun to warm the trees, giving off a heavy, heavenly forest scent. I lease a full glass-and-wood level of Sugar Shack, and have never been able to bring myself to hide behind draperies. My view into the woods is completely unobstructed. Their one cat, Akin, with my two, make a very joyful experience of home. Most of all, they bring us comfort and peace.

That's why, when I travel, my thoughts inevitably wander at some point to the peace and tranquility of home and my fuzzy guys, no matter how joyful and fun-filled my trips are. Such was the case when I was visiting my sweet daughter, Brooke, and her baby. Brooke was at work, and Ti-Rose just settled down for an afternoon nap. The skies were becoming black with enormous billows of thunder-heads so typical of southern Colorado. I nestled in an overstuffed love-seat to take a nap myself. Not wanting to miss a moment of the ensuing storm, I left the slider open and began my pre-sleep reverie with thoughts of home and my two golden stripped sweethearts. I missed them. A little dart in my heart went out to them, and I silently asked God to send them my love.

The thunder and rumble of strong rain woke me with a start. As I snuggled deeper into the sofa I tried to wrap my blanket around me tighter. Something -- or somethings were obstructing the comforter. I looked over my right shoulder, and curled tightly behind my knees was an adolescent-aged kitten. Surprised and delighted, I reached behind me to pet the darling when something above my head let out a stretchy yawn. Another one! Perfect bookends, these two, obviously brothers. I realized they had come in the open door and, seeing me cozy and warm, they had acted out their natural instinct by joining me in my daytime nuptials. They reminded me of my guys -- orange and white and full of delight. The three of us cuddled tighter and purred ourselves back to sleep with the gorgeous storm as a backdrop to our comfort.

The arrival of the kittens had been a mystery. After asking around the neighborhood, we discovered they belonged to a distant neighbor. I shared my hearty meal with them in gratitude, and returned them to their sweet owner -- a burly, gruff construction worker who emitted a gooey assortment of high-voiced baby sounds at the sight of his furry treasures. Made me giggle.

Grace. That is such an amazing word, becoming clearer to me all the time. I had experienced that it means another chance. Always, another chance is given us by God. I realized another cut in the meaning on this stormy day in Colorado. Every ailment, every sadness, every hope will be answered by One who walks with us. No matter how small or seemingly insignificant our grief is, a fuzzy comforter waits to join us. Sometimes, we needn't even ask.

© November 1999 Glenna Heller