In my vet's waiting room is a framed poem,
titled MY GIFT TO JESUS by Jane L. Sears.
It move me so, I took a copy home.
It bemoans the thought of Jesus never owning
a dog and expresses the poet's belief that she
is sending her newly deceased dog to Him.
I wish that Jesus had a cat whose purr would
have been like a prayer.
She would have sat with Him before His betrayal
in the Garden of Gethsemane, would have walked
with Him there in times that were happy and
never trample on a single blossom.
She would have been a loving pet but independent
enough to let her master go about His mission.
She would have kissed His hand, but could have
hissed enough to unsettle the evil snake, despite
all the hissing he could make.
With her ability to see through the darkness, like Jesus,
she would have made a great companion for the
Son of Man.
She would have sometimes left Him to roam,
but never too far from home for her wandering
to count.
She would be gone, but then, Jesus would be
preaching His Sermon on the Mount and
suddenly, she would be there. He would look
around and see her, listening attentively.
And when He would look up from His cross,
crying, "Oh Father, why have you forsaken me?"
she would be looking upon Him from the
limb of a great tree.
She would gaze at Him with all the compassion
of a loving friend, faithful to the end. And when
his body would be lowered, she would come
down from the tree, faster than ever, knowing
in her head that He was not truly dead.
With a bristly tongue, she would lick the wounds
of her master.
So I am sending my lord Jesus my beloved
cat, Puella. I hope that she can hear the
angels playing their harps or singing
acappella. Every feline likes music, soft
and fine, but this is especially true of mine.
And I wish my music lover could be the
cat that Jesus never had on earth. I wish
my sweet, furry little flirt could rub
against His feet. And I pray that, as Jesus
sits at the right hand of God, my beloved
cat may sometimes curl up in His lap.
May18/19, 1993
