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Friends United Meeting |
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September 1999
Of Felines and Faith
Jan Hodson
Leo's verse: Psalm 145:9, KJV
"The Lord is good to all, and His tender mercies are over all His works."
Jan's verse: Psalm 37:4, NIV
"Delight yourself in the Lord, and He shall give you the desires of your heart."
"Oh, get this thing off of me. It's like having a pet cow!" I pleaded as our boxer, Helen, lay in my lap crushing her 60- pound body into my chest. "She thinks she's a poodle," I breathlessly moaned, feeling a mixture of pressing pain and comic contentment as I stroked Helen's velvety ears. She was perfectly happy plopped in my lap, overpowering my short five foot frame. My eyes barely peered up over her brindle back imploring my husband, Bill, to help. "Please get me a lap dog," I begged.
"You have two cats," Bill answered, finding the whole scenario amusing.
"But they're not lap cats," I whined. I was referring to Parson Henry and Mr. Phil. Parson Henry is a black and white short-hair named for his markings and demeanor which give him the air of a dignified clergyman. (Or should I say clergycat?) "Henry is too aloof, and Mr. Phil only comes around to eat." Mr. Phil is a white stray who belongs to the whole neighborhood. He wanders from house to house mooching free food and lodging. The elderly lady behind us has admitted to serving him a bowl of milk and raw egg every morning. "It keeps his coat shiny," she purrs.
Mr. Phil is all white with a gray patch on top of his head. It looks like a small thatch of hair badly parted in the middle hence the source of his name. Our oldest daughter named him after a keynote speaker she once saw who sported a rather poor toupee.
"I'll take you to the animal shelter tomorrow, and we'll try to find you a nice lap cat," my husband said.
"I want a mushy one," I said. (I pronounce mushy like mooshee, as in pushy.) "I want a mushy one that will sit in my lap kneading its paws and worshiping me with its eyes."
Saturday came and Bill and I drove to the nearby shelter. I was immediately drawn to the yellow kittens, as all the yellow cats I've known in the past have been mushy. We stayed about half an hour, holding and petting several butterballs and trying to decide. "I'm afraid if we get a kitten it will morph," I said. By "morphing" I meant appear to be sweet as a baby but grow up to be Darth Vader; aloof, independent, all-powerful, all-controlling, demanding his Meow Mix in the same menacing drone as the Star Wars villain. I thought of the magnet adorning our pastor's wife's fridge that reads, "Dogs think they're human. Cats think they're God."
"I'll think about it," I said as we exited the shelter.
"If it's meant to be it will just happen," our oldest daughter, Jane, said as we returned home catless.
The next morning we dressed for church and drove into the church parking lot of our meeting, Walnut Ridge Friends. As we approached the steps of the brick 19th century building a miracle occurred. Out of the bushes crept a large, male, yellow cat who curled up affectionately at our feet, hungry for attention. He was skinny, bedraggled, had seeping eyes, and, to top it off, had absolutely no tail.
"There's Mama's cat," exclaimed my husband with a look of disbelief and a tinge of disgust.
"Oh, Daddy, can we keep him?" begged our four growing children.
"Be strong, Bill. Resist," exhorted a couple of men watching from the steps. Their tone of voice insinuated that
Bill was facing the same sort of evil temptation as strong drink and loose women. "Don't give in, Brother," they warned.
"Is it a manx?" someone asked.
"Name it Stubby," offered one of our younger members.
"Call it Tailer," suggested our Meeting clerk known for his dry sense of humor. There were several suggestions to name him simply, Bob.
I peered at his tailless backside. "I think I'll call him BUC, short for butt-ugly cat," I said.
We ended up naming him Leo. Partly because he looks similar to a small lion, but mostly because we have three teenage daughters who admire Leonardo DiCaprio. (Okay, I admit I think he's cute, too.) (Okay, I admit I named him after Leonardo DiCaprio.)
Leo has since been to the vet, and been vaccinated, medicated, flea-proofed and neutered. He's a mushy cat. He sits in my lap for hours kneading my
stomach, and looking adoringly into
my eyes.
"What else does he have to do since you had him fixed?" Bill murmurs.
He likes me best, and the most amazing thing is I didn't even pray for this cat. I didn't "bother God" with such a trivial request. But since God lives deep within my heart, He knows my heart's desires. And His tender mercies are over all His works-even tailless, homeless cats. Just think. We worship a God who cares that I wanted a mushy, yellow cat.
Formerly pastor of New Garden Friends Church, in Indiana Yearly Meeting,
Jan Hodson now attends Westfield Meeting, Western Yearly Meeting.
Copyright (c) 1999 Friends United Meeting
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