Angel
Lisa-Anne Wooldridge

That one, Mom!” I pleaded, pointing at the only female kitten in the litter. “I’m gonna name her Angel!” My brother and sister each chose a kitten, too, and for the rest of the day we did nothing but carry them around.

It was a hard season in my young life. I didn’t fit in well in my small town school, friends were few and far between, and my parents were dealing with emotional and financial hardships. I desperately needed something to love that would love me back.

Angel was a tuxedo kitty, colored black and white; her mannerisms were dainty and perfectly ladylike. She seemed to listen when I talked and would sometimes respond with little purring meows.

As she grew, she decided to follow me everywhere. She’d trek with me for miles into the woods. She would spend hours sunning herself while I picked blackberries for pies and cobblers. Her faithfulness and constancy were just the comfort that I needed.

She slept next to me, at least until I fell asleep. I struggled with nightmares, and many nights it would be Angel who would wake me from them, patting my face with her paws. Even when she’d been left out for the night, she’d come to my window and meow and paw the glass until I woke up. She never did it on the nights when I had good dreams!

She had some amazing talents. One day I watched her organize her two brother cats into a team. She jumped up and grabbed our front door knob with her paws and twisted while the two males each pushed on the door with their heads. The door opened, and the satisfied trio let themselves in. That explained why we kids were always getting in trouble for leaving the door open.

Every school day she’d walk me to the top of our hill, and then I’d send her home. After school, she never failed to be waiting for me on the sidewalk about a block from home. She would be there at exactly 2:35. How she was able to tell time so perfectly I’ll never know.

It seemed to me that Angel was never afraid. She’d climb trees to sit in my lap; she’d even follow me out on a branch over a pond I called my “reflecting pool.” She always seemed to know when I needed her and would seek me out when I was afraid or lonely or crying. Once she ran ahead of me and flushed out a copperhead snake hiding where I liked to play. Her quick thinking drove the snake away and protected me from being bitten.

Angel stayed with me for four of the hardest years of my life. Very often she was the tangible expression of God’s comfort and love to me. I believe he sent her to help me over the rough spots, to give me joy and peace, to remind me of his constant, watchful care. I’d named her Angel impulsively, as a child. As a grown woman, I don’t have any doubts. She was absolutely one of God’s messengers to me. She touched my heart with the wonder of his love.