The Cat Gets Blamed for Everything

The other day, I put cat poop in my mouth.

Go ahead and throw up, I’ll wait. Are you back? OK, now I can tell you I didn’t really do that… but I could have–I took the risk!

When I went up to get ready for bed, there was Dustie in her usual spot at the foot of our bed. And there was brown stuff squished into the sheets! Some of it was even rolled up like little rabbit turds. I scraped it off and whined at Dustie (you can’t really yell at a cat, it does no good), assuming she’d had her trouble whereby “something” gets stuck hanging… that’s what happens when you eat things like rubber elastics. But I couldn’t figure out why it was so…. waxy… could it be?…. dare I? So I did. Just one, tiny little crumb.

And of course it was–the piece of chocolate I’d unknowingly slept on during the night. The glories of having a nice, warm, waterbed!

“Isn’t it obvious that God-talk without God-acts is outrageous nonsense?” (James 2:17)


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