The visitor of Holy Week

Did you ever wonder if ordinary things and events are signs of Something Big?

And when do you realize Something Big has occurred? Immediately? When later events point back to an ordinary happenstance?

This being Holy Week, it's easy to wonder about the mysteries of our faith, whatever it is. So here is a short tale about something quite ordinary that is making me think about Something Big.

On Monday of Holy Week, Miss Kitty and I were enjoying the last of the warm and welcome afternoon sun. We were sharing the patio glider, listening to the birds in the wild hedge, watching an indefatigable robin building a nest atop the backdoor wreath and keeping an eye on the goldfish in the rock-pile fountain.

When Miss Kitty went into full-alert mode, I knew some intruder, perhaps several houses away, had arrived. Our cat has radar that would put Doppler to shame.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw some movement. When I looked at the narrow entry to the patio from driveway, I saw another cat.

To say that cats are territorial is to say that glue is sticky. Although Miss Kitty had already sensed the interloper, when she saw the stray cat she immediately bristled.

This stray had some peculiarities. Its head was way to big for its body. Its body was little more than skin and bones. Its tail looked twice as long as it should. Its eyes were rheumy. The cat could barely walk.

As soon as the stray saw Miss Kitty and me, it stopped and sat down. We all eyed each other with caution. When I stood up to see if our visitor was going to display friendly or aggressive behavior, it got up and walked off a few feet. But when I sat down again, the cat moved back to the edge of the patio.

Miss Kitty's posture and fur standing on end indicated she thought I should be shooing the stray away. But all I could see was a starving animal, probably sick and spreading goodness knows how many diseases. I informed the resident cat that I was going to give the stray some of her food. She looked at me like I was crazy.

As I approached the stray with a small bowl of dry cat food, it walked off but did not run away. I put the bowl where the cat had been crouched and sat back down on the glider. Miss Kitty joined me. In just a few seconds the stray was eating the food. Later, when I tried to get close, the stray walked away, always managing to keep a good 10 feet between us.

On Tuesday of Holy Week, there was no sign of the stray cat. I wondered if it had moved on or, possibly, used the last of its nine lives.

On Wednesday of Holy Week, the stray was back, looking even thinner than before. When my wife came home from work, she left the garage door open because of the heat. The stray gobbled up most of the food in Miss Kitty's bowl next to the workbench. It looked sick enough to die on the spot.

Torn about helping a sick stray, I called my neighbor who is involved with the Humane Society. He advised calling animal control. Because it was early evening, a uniformed officer was dispatched. Of course there was no sign of the cat when he arrived. Cats know how to do that.

On Maundy Thursday, the animal-control officer was delegated to search for and remove the sick cat.

Today is Good Friday. This is what keeps going through my mind: When I was hungry, you gave me something to eat ... . When I was a stranger, you welcomed me.

If we see the cat this Easter weekend, we will know the animal-control officer didn't find him. We'll also wonder: Is this a sign of Something Big? Bigger than Miss Kitty and me?

R. Joe Sullivan is the editor of the Southeast Missourian.