The Cat and the Preacher - Part 3

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Part 3 (Read Parts 1 & 2 first)
Matilda didn't see anything to laugh at. "I'd love for you to baptize my kitten, Cinnamon." Her voice was choked up. She put a tissue to her mouth and cleared her thoat.

At first, Pastor Todd looked surprised. "It's a beautiful animal. What kind?"

She couldn't help laughing at the pastor's ignorance? "She's a cat, Freddy?"

"I mean, what brand of cat, Persian, or what?"

"Oh, Obolesquian or Cynsimian. Something like that."

"I think you mean Abysinnian."

"Yes, dear, that's it.""Very unusual around here. I saw a cat show at The Cow Palace once."

"Not a cow, Freddy, a cat. An abysinnian cat."

The pastor tried to hide a grin. Taking a few seconds to think this novel situation over, the young pastor leaned forward toward the cat, saying, "Little missy, do you know the Bible well enough, and do you understand what you're proclaiming when I lower you beneath the surface of the water in the baptistery? For us, you know, symbolically it's the River Jordan."The cat meowed once loudly and immediately bent down to lick at the base of her tail."See? She knows what she's preparing to do," Matilda said.Lickety-split and ever-so lightly, the animal leaped onto Matilda’s lap, and then sprung up onto the preacher's desk, stepping good-naturedly and unafraid to the preachers closest hand and rubbed herself on the back of his wrist.

But Pastor Todd swiftly put a stop to that. He picked the cat up, cradling it by her ribs, holding it far from his body, hastily setting the thing on the floor. Unfortunately, in the process, the animal's leash got caught on the preacher’s stately-looking pen-and-pencil set attached to a placard with his name on it, and the whole caboodle went crashing to the floor. The cat immediately shot out as far as the leash would let her race.Mathilda, hanging on firmly to the leash, beat the preacher to the fallen plaque and pen-set, all of which was still together there except for the pen that had squirted off toward the book shelf. Pastor Todd picked that up."I usually like to handle Cinnamon myself, Freddy,” Matilda said. Briskly, but with the usual tremor in her hands, she set everything back into place, making certain to square it neatly.

The preacher rubbed his hand across his name plate, giving it some careful scrutiny. "It's all fine. No harm done."

“I didn't mean for you to knock your nice sign off your desk. That might scare the dickens out of a house pet like Cinnamon, you know.”The pastor twirled the pen he’d just picked off the floor, rapidly flicking it forth and back, making it look rather like a model airplane propeller. He chuckled.When she turned to sit down, it suddenly came on again, that dratted ear disease thing, a sudden dizzy feeling, the feeling of being almost thrown to the floor. "Oh, hang on, girl," she said on the way down. There was nothing subtle about it. Fortunately, she had learned in a previous life to roll when one fell, minimizing the chance of breaking bones. Learning that skill took place some forty years ago during her rock-climbing days.Once again the woman sprawled grotequely on the floor, Cinnamon prancing around, dancing lightly onto her hip and back down, bounding up on to her shoulder, then sniffing tentatively at her face.“Oh, hell’s bells, Cinnamon, it happened again,” she cried. “I have to remember to always brace myself when I make a sudden turn. I just have to." She was acutely embarrassed and began scrambling to right herself.Instantly, Pastor Todd crouched at her side, asking her if any bones were broken while he carefully helped her to her feet. “That was a nasty fall, Mrs. Graham.”“Don’t be silly, Freddy. These days, it feel like I’m only doing my exercises.” The old lady was becoming quite used to this affliction. “See, I told you I’m no spring chicken. I got other more troublesome aches and pains, like everyone my age,” she huffed while trying to catch her breath during the exertion of getting to her feet.The pastor helped her over to the chair. “Are you sure you’re alright,” he said, his calming voice with a sympathetic soft rapidity. “It’s no trouble at all to call an ambulance and get the hospital to do some tests on you. Maybe the right medicine ….”“Oh, shphaw. That was nothing compared to the swan dive I took off the porch a couple of weeks ago. Lordy, it was dark but my balance was fine." She bent down and straightened the hem of her dress, followed by a check of her hair with her hands. While doing this, her talking did not cease: “I’m already taking medicine that helps a lot.” It was a little white lie, but she continued. “It’s just that it doesn’t always completely work. I need to remember to brace myself, that’s all.”The preacher chuckled at the woman’s pluck.“Deary me, I must look a fright. What must you think of me?”“Well, frankly, Mrs. Graham, your sudden fall was most definitely a fright for me. But you look fine now; we'll pretend it didn't happen.” He glanced at his watch, then quickly searched the floor of his office for the roaming, leashed cat. “I sure don’t think much of your doctor."