When people hear the word "Phoenix," they might be reminded of the legendary bird...the
one that burned itself and rose from the ashes to begin life again.
When I hear "Phoenix," I am reminded of a gentle striped giant with an orange face and a sweet spirit who made himself part of our family at a time when we needed him most.
One night in September of 2015, shortly after we finished building a covered patio, a stray cat limped to our back door. I use the word “stray” lightly because he was well groomed, neutered, and front declawed, and yet he was hungry and homeless.
What to do? “He’s one of God’s creatures; you have to feed him,” was the response I received from my husband.
Eventually this sweet soul began to live on our new porch, making himself comfortable on and under the furniture. Although we made numerous attempts to find his former family or place him with a rescue agency, we were not successful. It didn’t seem to matter though, because apparently he had already decided to adopt us!
Through the generosity of a local vet we determined his limp was the result of a degenerative condition. His age was estimated to be about 10-12 years old, and he was in decent health.
Since two out of the four members of our family are allergic to cats, the best shelter we could offer him was our newly furnished covered patio and a heated cat house. My daughter named him Phoenix and claimed him as her own.
For
two years, he brought joy and laughter to our lives while we provided him with food, water, shelter, love, and free medical/dental.
In August of 2017, we delivered our daughter to college, and found out shortly after that Phoenix’s health was declining.
Without going into great detail, we lost our sweet Phoenix to cancer on October 23, 2017. Like a Phoenix, he rose each day with new courage for the day ahead, even when it wasn’t easy for him. In the end, I was with him, and I can tell you that I heard with my own ears the sweet sound of his purring right before he passed on to Cat Heaven.
This thought has come to mind more than once—Phoenix came to us when my daughter needed him, and he left when she went to college because his work here was done. In my mind, that is not a coincidence, but instead providential. His gift to us was far greater than anything we provided for him. He will always hold a special place in my heart.
By this time you might be wondering what leadership lesson we can take from sweet Phoenix. The lesson is simple. Be someone's Phoenix when they need you the most, providing a listening ear and companionship, and showing up each day--even when it isn't easy.
In August of 2017, we delivered our daughter to college, and found out shortly after that Phoenix’s health was declining.
Without going into great detail, we lost our sweet Phoenix to cancer on October 23, 2017. Like a Phoenix, he rose each day with new courage for the day ahead, even when it wasn’t easy for him. In the end, I was with him, and I can tell you that I heard with my own ears the sweet sound of his purring right before he passed on to Cat Heaven.
This thought has come to mind more than once—Phoenix came to us when my daughter needed him, and he left when she went to college because his work here was done. In my mind, that is not a coincidence, but instead providential. His gift to us was far greater than anything we provided for him. He will always hold a special place in my heart.
By this time you might be wondering what leadership lesson we can take from sweet Phoenix. The lesson is simple. Be someone's Phoenix when they need you the most, providing a listening ear and companionship, and showing up each day--even when it isn't easy.
RIP, Phoenix.
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