A parable. Not by them, but about them.
“I think we should just put up a big screen.”
“I don’t trust a screen.”
My wife didn’t trust a screen. Not to hold back the wandering, distressed cats from entering the front part of the van on our 25-hour journey across the country, not to keep them from finding comfort in the alcove of the pedal area and causing multiple horrific deaths, including their own.
Nyssa had a potentially better solution. Little leashes we could click into seat belts in the back. They’d be able to wander a couple of feet so they wouldn’t be stuck in a cage the whole way but they would have no way of murdering us and ruining our trip.
But with the leashes we’d also need some harnesses to attach them to. Nyssa returned from a trip to Petsmart with two cat leashes…and two medium-sized dog leashes. The latter two would of course be for our dear sweet Mr. Ringo (who is an awkwardly bulky cat, and is perhaps half-cow) and for the mama cat Abra, whose middle name we affectionately christened “Fatty.”
The morning of our arrival came, and it was time to get the cats into the harnesses. It wasn’t easy. Especially for Fatty. I mean, Abra. And the poor kitties, when they were harnessed up, kept trying to back out of the things. So there they are, all a little off balance, creeping slowly backwards in their attempts to escape their new prisons. But we thought we’d successfully pulled it off. At least the first stage of the process.
Mormon Reads has the rest.