I promised I’d tell you some more cat-tales. I thought of some other perhaps more meaty topics for this blog yesterday on my way to class. I’m learning to write things down when I get an inspiration. Perhaps that will mean more blogs.
But a promise is a promise. If you know me, I will die trying to keep my word. Not sure where I got that from but it is a huge thing for me. I will do what I say I will do. And if I use the word promise – that’s sacred.
It’s a Sunday when I am writing this so it seems most important to write about the cat we had for a very short time, named Angel. She appeared on the farm seemingly out of nowhere. Now if you knew all the strange things that happened on that farm, you might not think she came out of nowhere. Ultimately, I didn’t think so either.
She was a black and white long haired cat. She had been treed by our dogs when I first saw her. We already had three cats in the house, Smooth Chocolate, Nike, and Kisses. I’ll tell you about them some other time. I didn’t want another cat. However, she was so pretty, in a tree, scared, and I thought oh, what’s one more.
I think one of my girls named her Angel. I guess it was that she was pretty. She was mostly white and came from nowhere – she seemed like an Angel. It didn’t take long to realize she was not an angel. At the risk of offending my cat lover readers, the cat was possessed.
I knew immediately after inviting her in the house that it was a mistake. She was mean. My spiritual discernment went into overdrive and I knew this cat had to go. As you might guess, in a house that already had three cats, there were some quasi-cat lovers in the house. This was not going to be easy.
I prayed over that cat asking God to calm it. That wasn’t the first time I prayed over a cat. I did that with Nike after his traumatizing trip from Connecticut to Tennessee –yet another cat-tale for another time. Prayer didn’t seem to help. It was time for expulsion.
One day, when my cat-lovers were at school I took the broom, had the kitchen door open, and chased her out of the house. I prepared for the wrath and tears of little girls. I had told them she had to go. I had heard their pleas but I just felt she had to go.
It was interesting. You’d think after she’d been in our home she’d have come to the door and meowed for entrance. She never did. She seemed to disappear as quickly as she came. That seemed odd too.
A few days after her expulsion, there was a note under our door. It was from Angel. She talked of her expulsion. She used every literary tactic of guilt. I did feel bad. I gave the note to my husband. He still has it. It comes out whenever he wants to talk about the creativity of our daughter. He tells the stories sometimes in public. It always makes me feel bad, yet I don’t know why because Angel was no angel.
Actually Angel's story will preach. Sometimes we invite things in our life because they are attractive or appealing only to find out that they aren't. I found the only way for relief was expulsion. Sometimes you have to clean your spiritual house as well.