Cats

I’ve never been really fond of cats. I think it has something to do with how quietly they move about – almost like stalking you. I’m not allergic to them although two of our children are. However, they all know I don’t like them!

Over the years cats have done some very nasty things to me – like in my car, like in my luggage, like in the bed of the guest room of friends where Cheryl and I were supposed to sleep, etc. Don’t think I need to go into more details here!

When the girls were young we had a few cats, and I tolerated them as outdoor cats. One of them had a habit of climbing up under the hood of the car to get near the warm engine in the winter time. Usually, when we came out of the house to get in the car, the cat would quickly exit the car. One morning when I cranked up the car there was this giant thud. I knew immediately that the cat had encountered the fan belt of my car. Not a good ending for that cat.

Cheryl was completely surprised 12 years ago when I brought home a cat. A farmer had a goat I wanted to add to my herd, and when I was ready to buy it he said there’s one condition—you have to take a cat home with the goat. He told me to be careful because the cat was wild.

So, I showed up with a solid black cat that the farmer had put in a mesh bag with the top securely tied. I carefully untied the mesh bag because I was afraid with my luck that the cat would attack me. I turned it upside down and the cat fell out and jumped out of the truck and hit the ground running with both of our dogs right on her tail.

The cat ran up a tree to a height of at least 25 feet. Cheryl looked at me and said, “Well, aren’t you going to get it down?” That was the wrong thing to ask me. I responded that I had no intention of getting it down and when the cat was ready to come down that she would come down by herself.

Of course, that sparked a bit of family anger as I was the bad guy who wouldn’t get the poor cat down out of the tree. There was little consideration given to the fact that I couldn’t even touch the cat with my 24 foot ladder much less get it down. The next day the cat was still up the tree. And, then the next day it rained and the very wet cat came down out of the tree. 

One of the granddaughters named the cat “Viola.” I don’t know where the name came from, but 12 years later we still call her Viola. By the way, I have learned to love Viola because she keeps rats and mice out of our garage. On cold winter nights Viola sleeps with our two dogs—one which chased her up that tree 12 years ago. If only people were able to forgive and forget like animals. 

If you are tired of my cat stories, you can stop here. If you are game to read one more, please continue...

When we were leading workers in Northern Africa and the Arab world region, my good friend, John, and I were visiting a family in a country in the Sahara. They were having some challenges living in a very desolate, dry and dirty place, and we had come to encourage them and to talk about the future for their family. 

John sat down in a chair in their living room, the couple sat on a sofa and I sat on a love seat. After only a couple minutes of sitting down, all of a sudden some wild thing jumped on my back and dug its claws into my neck and scalp. I reached up and grabbed the varmint and slung it with all my might across the room. The wild thing was the family cat! 

With no regard for my welfare, the couple ran to their traumatized cat and started loving on it. And my colleague and friend, John, well, he was so startled that he was just staring back and forth between the couple holding the cat and me. The only apology I received was this statement: “He’s never done that before.” Wouldn’t you know it—the feline fanatic chose me to attack for the first (and probably only) time