The Cat and the Preacher - Part 4

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Part 4

After the preacher pushed the intercom button, asking Jennifer to bring in two glasses of water, the preacher had begun to recover his composure.

“What we need is water for my kitten,” Matilda said.

Pastor Todd said, “Oh, should I have Jennifer––"

He was about to punch the intercom button again when she said, “Oh, Lordy, no, Pastor! You know I’m talking about the water that cleanses away our sins, that saves anyone who wants it, you know. I’m talking about our upcoming little baptism ceremony for Cinnamon.”

“Um... yes, that’s where we were. But Mrs. Graham, don't you see how what you're asking me really doesn't work. The cat can’t understand what Baptism is about, can't possibly understand the Bible.”

"Nonsense," Matilda bent down and picked Cinnamon up onto her lap, petting, telling the cat gently it should calm down. “Everything’s all right,” she whispered into her ear. “Please, act like it's Sunday. Your best behavior, now, huh?" She lowered her face in close to the cat’s and whispered something loving.

To the preacher she said, "You know I'm not getting any younger and when I pass on, when I go to heaven, I want Cinnamon to be up there whenever her time comes so we can find each other. Cats can always find home, I’ve heard."

"It doesn't work like that, ma'am," the preacher said. His voice was strident, impatience in his tone. "Even for my family, I could never be certain my wife or my children are going to heaven, even though I would dearly like that. We will be in the company of other believers. We don't know a great deal about heaven. The Bible, to tell the truth, hardly mentions it. Moses tells about Elijah riding his chariot when it was whisked off in a whirlwind up toward heaven.”

“Yes, sir, that’s where I’m going.”

“Some of the Old Testament prophets allude to it. Finally, in Revelations, John, when about 90 year old, writing to Christians from the island of Patmos, describes heaven and earth followed by a new heaven and earth. Unfortunately, if we want a picture of heaven, that book has a lot of apocalyptic symbolism and has many different interpretations.”

“Oh, but my mother and father told me all about heaven.”

“I’m glad of that, Mrs. Graham.” The preacher was now chewing on his pen. Noticing what he was doing, he chuckled wryly, wiped it off with his hands, laying it on his pad of paper. “Heaven is up there somewhere, but our physical and emotional needs will be totally different than they are on earth." The preacher conjoured up a bright smile. "It will be glorious.”

"Freddy, how can it possibly be glorious without Cinnamon?"

“God and his plan ….” He gave a slow shrug of his shoulders, arms extending outward, and sighed. “I’m sorry. We don’t know everything about God’s plan.”

The alert Abysinnian, still in the chair, was turning her head to look at whoever was speaking.

"You'll see,” the preacher said. “It will be a wonderful eternity. I suspect it will be cooler than the fires of that other place where some of our,” and here he hesitated, whispering the rest, “that place where some of our friends who are not saved may wind up." His voice got strong and proud again. "That’s my job: To find them and save them."

“So baptize and save my kitten.”


The preacher tilted his head back, eyes squinting, looking at the animal. “He’s a cat!”

“Oh, Freddy,” she said, picking up the cat and stroking her. Tears welled up in Matilda’s eyes. “You mean you don’t care if Cinnamon burns in hell.”

“No, no. I didn’t say that.”

The old lady lifted her cat up close, high under her sharply jutting jaw, rocking her back and forth like a baby, the fur tickling the lady's chin.

"That's why I need to get Cinnamon baptized."

“But cats don't like water."

“Posh. I can't swim and I did it. You baptized me. Remember?"

The preacher laughed. "I believe you swallowed some water.”

"So, then," she said, "you won't mind if my cat acts just a little put out after you dunk him under the river. I’ll cut back her claws before she comes forward on her big day."

“Oh, for Christ sakes, Mrs. Graham, you can’t. I don't think you have the idea yet. We don’t run a circus here."

"Oh, yes, I do have the goddam idea. It's you, sir, who don't have the idea." She stroked her cat and talked lovingly to her as she rose from the chair, spry like a twenty-year-old and every bit as petulant. "You want to get baptized, don't you, Kitten?"

Pastor Alfred Todd must have counted to ten because there was an ungodly long pause until finally he tapped his finger-tips on the desk, saying, “Like I said, we will carry out God’s plan. We just may not always understand it."

“Land o’ Goshen!” she said. “The God I pray to is a loving god. He understands his people, the people that follow Jesus, and He could only be cruel to them when they turn away from Him and the Savior––oh, dear, the Savior is God, I mean they are the same person, uh … or, god, or something.”

The pastor’s impatience had shifted now to a barely noticeable forrow above his handsome dark brown eyebrows, the mild look of hopeless puzzlement replacing the earlier almost angry looks, a bit of empathy mixed with it. Without a speck of warning, his chair shot back and he stood up with his right arm out to shake her hand and he moved around his desk, gently guiding the slender, elderly woman to the door.

“This has been such a very nice chat, Mrs. Graham. Right now, I really have another appointment I have to prepare for. Maybe we can do this again sometime. I’ll be ready with some relevant passages from Paul’s epistles. You can bet on it”

She exhaled loudly through her nose and held her head up at an angle. “I’m no gambler, Freddy,” she said, geninely offended by the accusation, and she made her way through Jennifer’s office and out the door, the perked-up cat leading the way.