When I was a small child, my parents adopted a kitten. A Siamese kitten who I loved dearly. Siamese kittens grow up to be Siamese cats, creatures who possess a very special kind of crazy.
This cat was very tolerant of family members, but had a tendency to bite other people – viciously, and with the intent to maim. But not until she’d thoroughly washed the location she was about to bite. You can tell people this, but they don’t listen.
“That cat is going to bite you.”
“Oh no, cats love me. Look, she’s licking me!”
“She’s preparing the surgical site.”
“Ha-ha. She’s adorable.”
“You’re going to be sorry.”
2 years later, we adopted a second kitten. The picture at the top of the post shows Kitten (left) and Cat (right). It looks like Cat is about to eat Kitten. They were probably actually sitting around trying to look harmless, biding their time until they could partake in their favorite Christmas-time activity: rocketing around the house and launching themselves up the middle of the tree to bring the whole thing crashing to the ground.
My brother and I thought this was hilarious.
My mom did not.
My mom did find it hilarious when our Pentecostal neighbor, tired of being bitten by Cat, decided that the only course of action was to pray the devil out of her. My father pointed out that she could avoid being bitten if she’d just leave Cat alone, but the Exorcist was determined to rid this cat of demons.
Kitten, she reasoned, was a good Christian, so surely it was possible to save Cat’s soul, as well.
She prayed and prayed for the demonic forces to release their grasp on this poor beast.
Then she prayed some more.
Then she pointed her finger in Cat’s face. “In the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, I command you not to bite me!”
I’m sure you know what happened next.
Then my mother laughed until tears ran down her face.
For years I could reduce my mom to hysterical hiccupy laughter by mentioned what a good Christian Kitten was. Her name, incidentally, was Angel.
That kitten was many things, but angelic wasn’t really one of them.
In retrospect, it’s astonishing we didn’t all find ourselves on the receiving end of an attempted exorcism, because this lady was not to be trifled with. (Neither, apparently, were my Cat’s demons).
She was a nice lady, otherwise. If memory serves she may have supplied the candles for the massive elvis shrine on our street that year, but I don’t remember her visiting our house very much after the attempted exorcism.
Bonus content, now that I know what process-obsessed weirdos some of you are, here’s the storyboard for this post: