The Cat and the Christ Child
The cat crept into the cave. Stripy, she was, in the daylight. But
now, well past sunset and the settling of darkness, she was as black as
any other cat. The tabby's left ear twitched, cocked over her left
shoulder as she heard the rustling in the straw strewn over the floor. A
great ox lying nearby snorted softly as he dropped his head to the
ground. His horn made a clack! as it made contact
with the rock. He exhaled. His nares vibrated briefly then all was
still.
The cat remained motionless. Long moments
dragged slowly by. In the distance an owl called to its mate. Then the
rustling began again as the mice resumed feeding on the loose grain in
the straw. The cat's right fore paw inched forward, settled softly,
then the left paw raised, advanced, soundlessly touched the rock, then
pounce! Her prize in her claw, then between her jaws, she nestled close
to the belly of the ox and dropped the mouse. Stunned and addled but
still with a will to live the creature staggered and attempted to run.
But the cat casually reached out, dragged it back. Again she released
it, this time allowing the creature to "get away." But the cat sprang,
recaptured the mouse and lay down again. She played her cruel game with
the small captive for several minutes, but finally tired of it and
overcome with hunger she crunched its skull between her teeth, then
dined on her catch.
So Stripy, sated, slept.
A
ruckus arose within the stable. A pair of human creatures shuffled
into the space, one carrying a blazing fagot in one hand as with the
other he supported the woman who staggered in and collapsed on the
floor. A donkey followed them. Then entered a large nondescript dog
close on the heels of the ass. He went to the female human creature and
started licking her cheek while the man wedged the torch into a notch
in the wall that served as a sconce. The presence of the canine got the
attention of the sleeping cat, which started and sprang to her feet.
She scaled the flank of the ox where she settled, thus attaining a full
view of the goings-on. The ox slept on.
Soon there was
frantic activity, the man bustling around the woman, the woman writhing
and screaming in obvious pain. All the creatures in the stable stirred
restlessly, the sheep bleated, and even the ox raised its head and
voiced his concern. Following a protracted episode of heavy breathing
and intermittent screams, everything fell silent for a few moments.
Then suddenly the mewling of a new
man-child pierced the quiet.
The man patiently worked
at cleanup chores, handed the infant to its mother. Everyone except the
man, the woman, and the cat finally went back to sleep. Then the woman cradled the tiny human creature in the straw the man had laid in a manger. The tabby, her tail erect and switching from side to side
drawing esses and zees in the air, left her perch on the ox and
sauntered casually toward the small human. As the cat approached the
child, the dog lifted its head, raised itself up on its two forelegs.
The cat made not a sound but gave the canine the evil-eye. The dog lay
back down. The cat circled the child and we might imagine that she was
thinking, "Big deal. Just another human." Then she went back and
snuggled into the warmth of her bovine friend again.
Which
all took place before the gaggle of rough and ragged men began to fill
up the space, babbling about a Heavenly Presence that came to them in
the fields praising God and telling them that this child in the stable
was The Christ!
The cat was wrong.
The cat was wrong.
Merry Christmas!
and let there be peace, at least between you and me.
©David W. Lacy 2015
5 comments:
A beautiful story well told.
Typical "cat." They aren't impressed with much. Well...maybe some wet cat food.
Sweet story.
Chuck, I thank you, Sir.
Lin, had really hoped to capture the essence of "cat."
This cat certainly had a ringside seat for the happenings, and this account is likely closer to reality than we might want to think.
You know my opinion of cats in general and some cats in particular, so I read the story with my nose slightly scrunched up - though it is a stellar story.
Vee, I rather think it is an accurate depiction-- of the way it is envisioned in my mind.
Cats are cats; they live their lives and I live mine. But thank you for the rating!
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