Feral Barn Cats

But God commendeth (demonstrates) his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ dies for us. Romans 5:8

I love to hold a soft furry kitten in my arms and snuggle my head against it. I love the gentle purr of a contented kitty as I gently stroke its back. But not all my kittens were so loving and tame. My dad’s friend lived on a farm. He had feral barn cats. When I needed a kitten, Dad and I took a box to the farm to retrieve a kitten Dad’s friend had caught. I closed the box and held it on my lap to keep the wild kitten inside for the trip home.

We had a large basement with lots of shelves and tools and dark hiding places. That’s where I took the kitten in the box. Mom placed a bowl of milk for the kitten near the middle of the basement. When I opened the box, the kitten hissed and raised a paw of claws as I tried to reach in. Suddenly, it made a dive for the nearest hiding place. Mom took the box and left me to my kitten. I sat across the basement and called, “Com’on Kitty.” I watched the little eyes peek out from under dusty boxes. The smell of warm milk filled the basement. I hoped it would tempt the kitten to come out. “Here Kitty, Kitty,” I continued to gently call. I patiently waited and watched as the kitten moved from hiding place to hiding place eyeing the milk offered in the open middle of the room. After several hours of waiting and watching the kitten inched out and eased over to the bowl. After a few laps I tried to move in closer but it dashed away to hide again. More waiting, then it came out again. This time I got close enough to touch, but as I reached out my hand it ran back into hiding. Here I was waiting again but, this time I didn’t move away from the milk. A few minutes later, it peeked its head out again. It tip-toed over to the bowl. Watching me, it lowered its head to the milk and began to lap. I eased my hand to its back. There it went again, running back to a box. The kitten eased over to the milk bowl again. Finally, it allowed me to begin lightly stroking his back. I spoke ever so softly, so it would learn my voice. I heard a little purr start up in its throat. I let the petting become a little heavier so it would know the true feel of my hand. When the kitten finished, I picked it up and put it on my lap, still stoking its soft fur. Now I had my kitten I could love and play with.

I think I’m a feral barn cat too. When God wanted me to come to him, I ran and hid. I’d try a little religion on Sunday and then run back to the world. Then one day, I got it. I understood that all God wanted was to show his love for me and fellowship with me. Thank you, Lord Jesus for not giving up on this barn cat. Thank you for saving me.