Goldie
By Marcia K. Leaser
October 27, 2009
We named him Goldie, because he was a rich orange color.
Not really very imaginative, but we never were real clever with our
cat's names.
He strayed in one day, which wasn’t unusual for our country
home that often throughout the years had become a stopping off place
for many homeless animals.
Goldie always showed up about feeding time, and hung back
as our other two tame cats ate their fill. Then would creep up and
eat what was left.
He was a big Tom with large worried eyes. I made up my
mind I would make friends with this timid cat. That was easier said
then done. He was scared to death of people, and ran each time I
tried to approach him.
I would talk to him from the porch as he looked longingly at the
food, but he wouldn’t attempt to eat until I'd retreated to the house...
with me inside.
Each day he became bolder, and eventually would eat with the
other cats.
I’d watch him from the window, and he, when sensing my
presence, would almost grab a mouthful and run.
What had happened to him? I wondered. How many other
homes had he attempted to belong, only to be yelled at or kicked.
Why was he no longer welcomed at his “own” home?
Eventually, with kind words, and a name to call his own, he
allowed me to pat his head, as he ate. He flinched, though, with
frightened, worried eyes searching mine.
Then, one day, I reached down, and he allowed me to pet
him. Oh was he a lover. He soaked up my affection, like a good
book longing to be read. He'd waited so long, for the touch of a
human hand... one that didn’t hurt him.
I found myself wishing he could talk, and tell me his story.
But I knew it all too well. He and I were a lot alike, actually,
beaten up by life. Feeling we didn't belong, and hurt by many we
were afraid to love.
But, then, I found a place where I was welcomed, also: at
the foot of the cross. Jesus called me His own, and with kind words,
and many days of patient wooing, I realized I was loved by Him, and
by many members of His immense family. I, too had found a home,
and no longer recoiled from life that was painful before our meeting.
Goldie is part of our family now. Well, as much as he can be.
He still only shows up at feeding time, but we are allowed to pet him
and he rubs against our hands with affection… accepting the love we
have to offer.
I’m grateful to that ‘no longer’ stray cat. Because, you see,
he gave me something to treasure as well. A reflective look back into
the lonely life I'd lived before becoming a child of God.
.
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