June 5 – “The invasion”

We came under attack yesterday.  Invaded.  There we were, quietly minding our own business.  I was hard at work at the computer.  Chris was reading the paper.  We both saw movement out of the corner of our eyes.  You know that feeling?  What was that?  Was it a bird flying around our porch?  No, when that happens, they usually end up crashing into the door and stunning themselves.  Was it one of those pesky mosquitoes?  No, we haven’t had enough rain for them to hatch yet.  Besides, it would be unusual for both of us to experience a mosquito attack at the same time.  Was it just one of those float-y around things that old people get on the edge of their vision?  Well, I have no answer to that one.  I guess it could have been.

Nevertheless, we both jumped up to look.  Well, Chris jumped.  I eased up gracefully.  She got to the front door first and calmly pointed, “We have a visitor on the front porch.”  I followed her finger’s direction briefly, but that same annoying flash of movement off to the side grasped my attention again.  Could it be?  Yes.  I was sure of it.  Not one, but two of the interlopers.  Wait, not two.  There is another.  Any hope of me remaining calm and cool quickly vanished.  We were surely under attack.  Call out the dogs, we might need protection assistance.  Bravely, we opened the door, careful not to allow them access to our inner sanctuary.  They were everywhere.  Behind flowerpots.  Under the rocking chairs.  Under the car.  In the bushes.  Roaming around in plain sight, making no effort whatever to hide from us.  How brazen.  How terrifying. 

Right there in our front yard - nay, on our front porch with inches from our front door – were three little kittens.  With no mittens.  They obviously couldn’t find them.  We looked as well.  No luck on our part either.  However, Chris assured me that all would be well.  We managed to snag the critters and replace them in their makeshift pen on our neighbor’s porch.  That didn’t work so well.  I adjusted the gate to clog up the exit they had made.  They jumped over the gate.  I gave up, but Chris was worried they might get run over or eaten by a dog (certainly not our sweet, lovable creatures).  So we gathered up the two who were currently on the run (One either couldn’t figure out the exit scheme or refused to make the required leap of faith.  I think there is a sermon illustration in there somewhere), and Chris returned them to the little girls next door.  Phew.  Safe at last.  Me, I mean, not the cats.

Psalms 67:5-6 says, “May the peoples praise you, O God; may all the peoples praise you.   Then the land will yield its harvest, and God, our God, will bless us.”

Father, thank you for a wife who is brave and honorable.  Cat-rescurer.  Pet-returner.  I love that woman.  Amen.