Sunday, November 8, 2015

November 8 – “Fearless Freddy”

Our new little charge made a frightening discovery the other day.  Fred was at his usual post, staring out the clear glass of our front storm door, prepared to protect us from any sort of attack, whether it be from a uniformed UPS delivery guy or our regular mail carrier.  Always at the ready.  Ready Freddy.  Huh.  Right.

The last few days we have had another stray show up that apparently heard the lady in our house might be an easy mark for some free food.  Totally different situation this time though.  First of all, Chris didn’t hit it with a car, so the guilt factor was not present.  And secondly (and of utmost importance in any decision regarding the ultimate fate of the creature in regards to our household) … it was a cat.  We don’t do cats.  At least I don’t do cats.  And I thought Chris was in agreement with said philosophy.  But she sure did have a yen for this loudmouthed feline.  It constantly meowed the whole time it paced around om our porch.  Chris was convinced that all it needed was a little bit of food.  I assured her that if it was a good cat, it would go catch a mouse and have it for breakfast.  Or if it was a great cat, it would catch a rat and have a Thanksgiving feast.  It’s what cats do.  It’s what they were created for.  And either way, it meant we didn’t have to feed it.  Oh, over my admonition she eventually gave it some of the dog’s food.  Imagine that.  Taking food from the mouths of our own creatures and giving it to … a cat - something that was perfectly capable of fending for itself.  Enough of that rant.  Back to the story.

The cat was on the porch and Fred finally saw it.  Now Fred had never before seen a cat.  It was a curious moving object that led to a cocked head and the faintest of Freddy-whines.  The cat slowly made its way closer and closer to the door, realizing that the canine face was connected to a less-than-imposing body.  Fred’s ears perked up (as much as her ears are capable of such a feat.  I think her tail would have done the same, but that permanent curl is not about to straighten itself out, even for a cat).  The whine got just a little bit louder.  The cat found a comfortable spot just outside the front door, close enough that Fred could probably smell the evil interloper’s feline-ic intentions.  Fred stood at attention for a long several minutes, ready for anything.  Prepared to take out any intruder with designs on our door.  Ready Freddy.  Fearless Fred. 

And then it happened.  Actually we are not completely sure what it was that happened, only that it must have been horrific.  Freddy yelped.  Not just once, but over and over, screaming it utter terror.  Her legs were pumping as fast as they could move, but on the slick hardwood floors she was not making much headway.  Looked like one of those cartoons where the feet move but the body stays still.  Her paws finally made contact with the floor enough for her to streak away from the front door like a racehorse out of the gate.  Chris came running and comforted the poor abused puppy.  I walked over to the front door to see what manner of horror had overwhelmed such a fearless watchdog.  And there it sat.  That cat.  Lounging on our door mat as if nothing at all had happened, tail casually swishing through the air.  Now as I said, we didn’t see what actually happened, but I am convinced I know.  I am pretty sure that cat suddenly leapt toward the door, right toward poor unsuspecting Freddy, making one of those grotesque monsterific faces that you see in those internet pranks that mesmerize you with a mellow scene, only to shock you with the sudden appearance of a horrendous face growling at you.  That has to be what happened.  After all, it was a cat.  And that’s what cats do. 

Now I know some dog lovers who would encourage me to take poor Fred to a doggie psychiatrist to help her work through the PSCET (Post Stressful Cat Experience Trauma) she will undoubtedly be experiencing for the rest of her life.  I think I’ll just let it go, though.  I get along well with psychologically “off” animals anyway.  I can relate.

James 1:22 says, “Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says.”


Father, draw some folks to Seaside today who are seeking you.  Amen.

No comments: