Preacher and the Cat - Part 7

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Part 7

The lady next to her had tapped her husband on the shoulder and pointed at the "trained" cat, set like a piece of ceramic on the pew cushion.

A little boy in the pew in front of her with head turned around noticed the cat. "Here, kitty, kitty," he said. His mother tugged him back to sitting, facing the front, cramming crayons and a paper into his lap.

Now the cat had stretched up her neck, looking wide eyed, alert. Oh, she's listening, Matilda thought, but she very soon lost confidence. With a minimum of fuss, she took the cat in both her hand, folding the cat warmly into her lap, stroking her.

She bent down to Cinnamon's ear and whispered, "Now listen to what the preacher says. Don't pay the people any mind. Remember, our goal is to get baptized."

Apparently she had whispered loudly enough that the people in front of her, to her left, and to her right heard, reactions ranging from stifled smiles to surprise to outraged disapproval.

The old lady smiled. The cat purred. The preacher’s sermon, well on its way, began to crescendo and soar.

Matilda took down notes, and needed a place on her lap to write. For by her note-taking diligence, she let Cinnamon sit next to her again. The cat looked to be listening in wrapt attention. But suddenly, the cat leaped down. The utter quietness of the movement caught Matilda off guard. The leash jerked out of her relaxed grasp and Cinnamon disappeared under the next pew. Matilda lunged down to grab but missed the red diamond studded leash. "Oh, my," she said.

Neighboring worshipers turned to look at the bent-down old lady.

Two rows up and off to the center there was a commotion. People looked down. A lady yipped like a small dog. Another stood and seemed to be eyeing something moving along on the floor. Children had slid off cushions, disappeated, apparently crawling to look under the pews. The pastor must have thought this was really in reaction to his words about how faith had let Jesus do his miracles. He was on a roll.

"You can walk on water, I can walk on water, we just need that elusive quality of the human heart: faith. Sometimes we all question that faith. But grasp it, it's for everyone who hears of the good news of the Bible. Faith and hope. God's on the side of the repenting and the saved. But do you act saved? Ah, the question of the hour.”

The preacher's head lifted up, eyes puzzled, his gaze shifting over to the center aisle. That was where the people chuckled and buzzed, a low murmur disturbed the usual sounds and coughs of the congregation. Some turned quickly in their seats, others pointed.

Aghast, Matilda decided she had to do something. Standing, she carefully sidled in front of a family, careful not to step on shoes, and she moved into the center aisle. She ran forward, a run like no one had ever seen before from Matilda at her age.

Seeming only slightly puzzled by the apparent uncommon excitement of his flock, the preacher exhorted his congregation. The cat, in its zigzag path toward the front, however, garnered much attention.

At the third row, Matilda stopped to gather her thoughts, finding a handy empty place to sit.

A little girl, second row, on the other side of the aisle, upped, dashed a short distance and clutched for the leash. But, heavens, the cat scooted forward. Others in that row bent down and reached.

Cinnamon, quick and still dragging the leash, was now in the open space in front of the broad, carpeted stairs leading up to the pulpit and choir loft. The cat seemed to recognize Pastor Todd and jumped up on top of the lectern. Tail high, it wasted no time walking to sit on top of the preacher's Bible, rubbing her feline face against the preacher's Bible on the lectern. The preachers hands went back and up, quickly, possibly wondering where this out-of-place animal came from.

"Excuse me," he said leaning toward the microphone. "I gotta--."

The loud popping sound cam from the microphone when the cat rubbed her whiskers against it."

A smattering of guffaws came from around the a uditorium.

The preacher blurted out, "What the hell ..."

Quickly, he grasped the cat gently about the ribs. "Don't I know you?" he said.

And elder of the church rose half way back on the aisle, shouting, "Do we have two deacons who can round up this animal."

The cat, now alarmed, squirmed away, bounded down, racing across to the foot of the choir benches near the music director and on over to the baptistery.

A chunky deacon streaked toward the steps up to the baptistery. Cinnamon by now had raised herself on hind paws, looking over the edge of the front wall of the baptismal pool, filled to about three feet of water, as always.

A tall deacon from the other side moved in to block the animal's path. The shorter deacon got their first, but the preacher was close behind. Both grasped for the leash, spooking the cat further. The tall deacon moved rqpidly, reaching to grab the scuttling creature. By now, two other volunteers moved into place to surround the cat.

Escape was now a real challenge for Cinnamon. But not really. It was an unfair match up. The cat ran darted under the preachers legs.

The congregation now stood, completely mesmerized. This was action; this was what church was meant to be; there was more excitement now than when James Parker had fainted at his wedding, topping a row of potted flower. There was a rumble. The congregation by now issued forth a burst of applause. Sharply worded comments, belated questions, whoops, and yells filled the hall.

Poor frightened Cinnamon jumped up on top of the counter at the edge of the water surface.

Running figures came at her from all directions, hands grasping for her leash. She bounded along the counter toward the tall Deacon.

“Get him, “ shouted the pastor. Applause every time the cat got away.

Cinnamon was about to leap away when the tall deacon dived at the red leash. He missed. He stood up. The cat jumped up onto the deacons shoulder, quickly went around his shoulders, a half-circle behind the deacon's head. CThen the cat turned quickly and leaping off the shoulder into the water with a splash.

The shorter deacon fell back, water all over his suit, sputtering. The preacher wiped water from his face.

“Oh, save him!" shouted Matilda, having moved up even with the front pew and about to climb the steps.

A couple more brave souls from the front rows had joined in the round up, laughing. "Fun game!" one of them said.

The cat, in a flurry of splashes, swam desperately toward the rear of the baptistry.

"Oh, heavens, don't hurt my kitten!" Matilda yelled, not managing the stairs very well.

The flustered preacher leaned over within inches of grabbing the struggling cat's leash. The pPastor Todd stretched out further. in a fraction of a second, his feet slipped from the floor and he dove ingloriously head first into the water.

A unison oh-my-god ghasp emminated from the onlookers, then raucous laughter. The place sounding more like a football game than a church.

The preacher stood up, spat out a long stream of water, and held up something red and dripping in his hand. Matilda could see it was the diamond studded leash, twinkling brightly in the lights. This was just before she lost her balance and fell on the carpeted dais. Some people in the front row came to help her to her feet.

Pastor Todd turned to pull the cat toward him, the poor, drenched beast seeming only too happy to be picked up out of the cold water.

The pastor was now ghasping from the cold water, too, as there were no baptisms schedule for this day. The tall deacon was helping Matilda brush off and assessing the damage.

By the pool, the chubby deacon, could not keep from smiling at this whole scene, held out his hand, pulling the preacher up over the edge. Pastor Todd shook away the offered hand, wading toward the side of the pool with the stairs.

Red-faced Matilda reach for the cat as soon as she was close enough, and the preacher, now able to laugh along with a congregation, shook what must have been quarts of cold water off his coat sleeves.

Matilda pciked her cat out of Pastor Todd's hands in a big hurry to get out of there.

The preacher whispered out of the side of his mouth, "I should've baptized your wildcat on Thursday.”

"I told you."

He rolled his eyes. "I had no idea how badly the little critter wanted it."

Matilda managed to say before she ran up the aisle, "Thank you, pastor, for handling the baptism. Not so awfully organized as usual, but I think it met the intent, don't you?"

The preacher hesitated, then nodded.

Now the crowded, so curious, so entertained offered help down the stairs and up the aisle. onlookers' hands reaching out, scattered applause around, whistles echoing off the walls.

Out the door the old lady carrying the stow-away cat scooted. She held her precious cargo tight, the sopping wet Abyssinian shivering, now destined for heaven to be at Matilda's side in Heaven when their times came.