So our kittens went missing and all but one returned. That lost one is our favorite, he is the one that is a bit slower than his siblings, his tail is bent and curly and he is just a bit odd (a true Ragsdale indeed).
We have been searching from high heaven to low hell for this precious little beast. There is one neighbor, whose door we have knocked on several times to ask permission to search in his yard as it adjoins ours. After three days of knocking, I decided to trespass and I entered his backyard without permission and with a little trepidation about the two barking black dogs that I often see behind the fence. What I discovered is that the neighbor is a kindly old widower that sits alone day and night in his converted garage, hence his reason for not hearing us knock on the front door of his house.
I asked if I could search around his yard for our kitten, he granted. But with no luck of finding the kitten I asked if I could return in the evening, after dark, with my kids, perhaps they could help. He was overjoyed. He must have shaken my hand 12 times in the space of 5 minutes and told me how he was looking forward to meeting my family.
Tonight we visited him. We brought him a slice of the cake that my daughter crafted for the family. When I asked him if he liked chocolate cake as I put it into his open hand, he smiled and almost choked on the words, “I sure do.”
He lent the kids and I a flashlight, we lent him my husband, Chris. They sat and talked, and smoked and drank a bit of whiskey together. By the time the kids and I returned without the kitten, Pops had us lining up for a family photo. He’s invited us over anytime, we have committed to bringing him treats a couple of times a week.
He has 12 grandchildren and 21 great grandchildren, apart from his loneliness.
We set out to find our kitten and sadly he is still missing but God used this trial to help us find Pops, sitting alone, drinking whiskey with two old dogs to keep him company.
From high heaven to low hell and a little trespassing in between, with the heartbreak of a missing beast and three ripe days of my crying boy’s grief, we headed back home and left Pops to his cake, his smokes, his whiskey and his dogs, hoping and praying that we were able to trade a bit of that loneliness for a piece of chocolate cake.
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