I have always had a cat in my life. For those who are not cat oriented there is one rule to learn-a cat is not owned by you, you are owned by the cat. If you leave a cat for a day or so, or give it a scolding, it will turn its’ back on you and punish you for your unsuitable behavior. Right now I am owned by a Tonkinese cat named Simon. His coat is a beautiful beige color, with a grey face, paws and tail, and he has blue eyes. Simon is mellow, has made friends with a Labrador Retriever, and looks at birds with an expression that says "Why bother?". He considers himself Royalty. He captured me, and knows he is fortunate. If you take his favorite chair he will stare at you until you move. If you displace his dish or give him food he dislikes, he will walk away with an air of disdain.
Simon likes Christmas, and turkey is his favorite food. But one Christmas in particular, Simon became a celebrity and people still talk about him with fondness.
We lived just up the street from a little Baptist Church, which always had the most delightful Nativity Scene, with flood lights shining on the Babe in the Manger. It was endearing, and the chimes playing Christmas music always added to the festive atmosphere of the neighborhood. The church was on the other side of an intersection but I never worried about Simon in traffic because he did not venture outside. One cold evening, with air that would freeze your breath, the wood stove was inviting, and we were all inside, thinking Simon had found his favorite spot of the week, and was safe and warm. Then the phone rang.
"Is your cat home?" a neighbor asked. I told him yes, but he insisted I check to see if he was indeed home. We began the search.
No, Simon was not home. Panic set in. How did he get outside? I went back to the phone and fearfully asked my neighbor why he was inquiring, expecting to hear that Simon had been hurt. But thankfully that was not so.
My neighbor lived directly across from the church and was in the habit of sitting in his cosy chair by the window, watching television, while keeping an eye on the Nativity display. He thought he saw movement in the manger, and it looked like a real baby moving around. Then he remembered that I had a beautiful beige cat. He got the binoculars, and he and his wife decided that it was indeed Simon in the Manger. He went and verified that it was indeed my Simon. His fur was warm from the hot floodlights as he snoozed next to the figurine of the Baby Jesus.
I rushed out to fetch my cherished cat. He wasn’t pleased about leaving the manger and the warmth of the lights, but I cuddled him, and went home.
So Simon became a celebrity that Christmas. He had slept in the manger with the Baby Jesus, surrounded by shepherds, wise men, Mary and Joseph. My precious cat became part of Christmas in our village. He never tried that again, because Simon knows what is good for him, and what is bad. The warm Manger was good, but the busy highway was bad.
Every Christmas since when the Nativity Scene is built, the story of Simon, the Christmas Cat in the Manger, is told with fondness. My fugitive cat had stolen their hearts.
Merry Christmas to you Simon. God understands and loves all the little creatures. It reminds me of the childhood hymn we sang, "God sees the little sparrow fall, it meets his tender view." And Simon, if God so loved the little birds, I know he loves you too.
Bonnie Jarvis-Lowe,
Owned by Simon in
Shoal Harbor, NL
BACK TO BONNIES PAGE
HOME
MGM
© ALS Independence 2003-11