I took her to the vet yesterday for her annual check-up and vaccinations and all went well - no one was hurt. I mention this because last year she attacked the vet and drew blood, so now there is a note in her file that she is to be handled with extra caution (an assistant with a towel and leather gloves) and it keeps everyone safe. Sigh. It is not that Jazz is really dangerous, it is just that she hates someone making her do stuff she does not want to do, and she likes her personal space...A LOT! There is a fierce independent streak in her and she will protest and even attack if that is threatened in a significant way.
Let me confess that I identify with Jazz in some way - not that I like to lick myself to get clean or sleep 20 hours a day (well, some would argue the latter point), but I do not like to have my basic independence and apparent well-being challenged. Admit it, when you are being poked uncomfortably hard in all your sensitive areas and your limbs are being constricted and various orifices are being prodded and sharp objects are being introduced into your back side while your face and chest are being mashed firmly against the table and you can't even see the person who is doing all this to do...well, one hardly wonders why she thinks that getting all her claws out is the appropriate response.
Some people insist that God is not trustworthy because they experience pain and suffering, have unwanted restrictions in their lives, some sensitive areas have been exposed and prodded, and all without any explanation or apparent reason, much less face to face contact to reassure them that this is all being done for a greater good.
I admit it, I do not always understand the ways of God, but understanding is not absolutely necessary for love and trust to be present - just look at the parent/child relationship. I was talking to someone this week who questioned the validity of faith in God and I told them, "I do not expect you to trust someone you do not know."
After Jazz had growled and bared her teeth and spat and hissed and tried to strike and claw and fight her way out from the grip of the vet and her assistant and their tools of restraint, they let her go and asked if I was okay to take her from there. I said, "No problem." I reached down, spoke Jazz's name in a reassuring manner as I pulled her from beneath the chair she was seeking refuge under, and lifted her into my arms without so much as a struggle or a sound on her part. Even the most fierce souls can find their way to a place of trust.