John found his wife sitting on their cat-scratched couch, watching the bookshelf. She had been there off and on most of the afternoon, maintaining a bewildering vigil on the figurine.
It hadn’t moved in all that time – a fact that had Jessica asking herself, Why should it? It’s not alive! And yet Jessica could see no other answer to all these riddles. A porcelain cat that’s curled up on the bookshelf one minute, lying on its side in the windowsill the next. Floorboards that creak of their own accord. Curtains that bear new scars each morning. A swinging chandelier – for no reason.
The figurine must have been stretched out when you got it, her conscience told her steel-trap mind. You remembered it wrong.
Yet how could she forget something like that in but a day? She was an exobiology student preparing for medical school – her memory wasn’t that bad!
This made no sense!
You moved it without thinking, her evaluating side continued. Or John did.
Yet John wouldn’t do something like that. That would be pervading Jessica’s domain. He wouldn’t even think of it. And she hadn’t moved it – of that she was positive.
You just forgot. These things are all coincidental. You’re making something supernatural out of nothing.
That would be the easy answer, wouldn’t it? But that left Jessica more uncomfortable than the other solutions, however unrealistic they seemed.
“So what am I going to do?” she asked herself as the setting sun drew near. “Tell John that little critter is alive? Haunted? He’ll think I’m crazy – that’s what he’ll think.”
She sank into the worn pillows of the couch. “Maybe I am.”
Maybe you are, replied her conscience. This isn’t exactly scientific.
Jessica didn’t care. Science couldn’t answer everything. Much in this world defied description or explanation.
Well then, continued the argument, look at it this way: What would Christ think of this? How would He explain it?
That stumped her. None of this seemed biblical – a realization that made her question her sanity anew. But as she sat there, pondering it in that light, the situation no longer seemed so clear. Didn’t the Bible have its mystical elements? Priests turning rods into snakes? Demons occupying pigs? A donkey that talked?
So how would that figurine serve God?
“How indeed?” she wondered, giving free rein to His wondrous ways.
That made her ask another question: Why should all this scare her? The little kitten hadn’t done anything terrible. It was just playful, like Sebastian had been.
That fact stopped everything. It was indeed acting just like Sebastian had.
For some reason that filled Jessica with joy.
That’s how John spied her through the window – relaxing on the couch, wondering what he would say when she explained how her beloved cat had returned to her in the form of a glassy figurine.
But she never got the chance.
She first heard the timid calls before her husband came through the door. Then she saw the large box in his hands, the white and tan paws stretching their claws through the holes, and she understood. Jessica threw herself around John before the screen door could slam shut, hugging him so tight that he almost dropped the box. A frightened whine penetrated its walls.
John held her close, nuzzling her neck, her ear. “This is how to end a hard day’s work,” he whispered with much love. “But you’d better take this first.”
Even as he handed her the box, the kitten was squeezing her brown, gray, and white spotted head through the folded lids. Jessica opened the cardboard crate and drew the curious feline to her neck, snuggling her between her left shoulder and cheek. The kitten squealed and struggled to escape, but as she felt the love surrounding her, all resistance ended. A loud purring filled the room, and Jessica’s heart.
“Oh, John! She’s so beautiful!”
Her husband smiled, slipping out of his coat. This sight alone made it all worthwhile.
Jessica rocked back and forth, cuddling the contented kitten to her cheek, beaming to the world her happiness. Only as John lifted the small bag of cat sand from the box did the reality of this strike her.
“But, John,” she whispered, “I thought we’d agreed… we can’t afford another cat right now. Not with our budget and all.”
“Yeah, well, maybe so,” he allowed. His eyes fell on the figurine on the shelf, its face staring at their newcomer. “But I figured this house just isn’t right without one. I’ll start packing my lunches for the summer; that should free up some money.”
“Oh, John!” Was there any doubt why she loved him?
“She’s had all her shots, you know, so that saves us some from what we’d budgeted. They gave us some worm medicine. And she was on sale, too. They were practically giving her away!”
“Oh, dear, John. You don’t think there’s anything wrong with her, do you?”
John leaned over and stroked the velvety fur under the kitten’s chin. She lifted her head, allowing John to roll his fingers along her throat. Her purring deepened.
“I think,” he began, “that you’d better start thinking of a name.”
“Oh, that’s easy,” proclaimed Jessica. Pulling the kitten to her face, she whispered, “Isn’t it, Bridget?”
With a tinny meow, Bridget swiped her left paw at Jessica’s nose. Jessica laughed.
John was right, she decided. The house did seem better now.