Bless me, Father, for I am cat

Usually when I’m taken out for a ride in my carrier, the destination is a sterile room with white walls. Then someone wearing a rubber glove sticks a finger in my poop-chute. Grrr!

Once a year, though, my owners take me for a special ride. We go where there are other animals with their owners. There’s hay on the ground and not a rubber glove in sight. Instead, a nice man dressed in a brown bag dips his fingers in some special water, then pets me gently while saying a prayer. Purrr …

I wanted to drink some of the special water, but no one would let me. Meow?

I hear the nice man is a Catholic priest of the Franciscan order. The Franciscans follow in the footsteps of a man named St. Francis, who lived 800 years ago. St. Francis loved animals like me. He is often depicted with a bird resting on his shoulder.

I too like birds. They are tasty. Mmm …

Feast of St. Francis

Today is the Feast of St. Francis, the patron saint of pets. Purrr. It’s the one day every year I know my master’s husband is praying for me.

Me, being blessed by a nice Franciscan priest last year. Purrr. My master's husband estimated I had a five-percent chance of bursting into flames when the holy water touched me. I didn't. Grrr!

My master prays for me every day, naturally. Meow.