It Must Have Been the Cat

As soon as I walked through the door, I saw the drips of blood leading from the kitchen into the dining room.  For a brief moment I stood there in horror.  Blood was definitely not on my floor when I left for work; so where did it come from?  I felt a chill run up my spine.  An intruder perhaps?  Yes, that’s it.  They probably cut themselves breaking through a window.  I instantly pictured a man with a white cloth (it’s always a white cloth, right) wrapped around his profusely bleeding hand.  I rushed through the house checking windows and doors, but nothing seemed to be out of place.  Hmm, I racked my brain for an explanation, and in the end said, “It must have been the cat.”  (I’ve found that a cat comes in handy for a whole host of unexplainable events.  Anything that goes “bump” in the night is chalked up to the cat and her mysterious nighttime ways.  If I didn’t practice this method of excusing things, I’d get very little sleep.)

I was exhausted so took a short nap before dashing out the door for a meeting, and when I arrived home late at night, I was too tired to think about the blood or whatever it was.  The next morning, however, I couldn’t deny that there was a problem.  The blood had increased fivefold.  Quickly I took an inventory of myself – I’m an avid sleepwalker and never know what I might be up to in the middle of the night – but no traces of blood on me.  Perhaps my house is haunted, I mused.  I was remembering a story I wrote when I was ten called “The Ghost with a Bloody Nose.”  No, it really must be the cat, I concluded.

I picked little Mercedes up and began a thorough exam.  “Oh, oh, oh!” I said when I found that one of her claws had overgrown and was pressing deeply into the pad of her paw, a paw which was swollen and bloody.   In an instant I was tormented by regret.  Why, oh why, didn’t I investigate last night? I asked myself.

A few minutes later, Mercedes cuddled on my lap while one paw soaked peacefully in a little dish of hydrogen peroxide, and I contemplated my excuses for not checking Mercedes the night before.  I was so tired, I told myself.  I thought it was probably just a scratch.  When I thought about how she’d had to suffer an entire night because I put off doing what I should have done, I felt horrible. 

I then thought of the excuses we make for waiting to share the gospel.   I’m not sure they’ll listen, we say, or I’ll get around to it soon but I’m so busy today.  The Bible says, “Behold, now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation.”  (II Corinthians 6:2b)  Do not live in regret for neglecting to share Christ’s love!

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