Touched by Angels

Misty, 2009 a Beautiful Queen

Christmas, a Queen

Christmas waiting for me

Angel 1988

Jake 1991

Dimmit 1998

Zeeke 1997

Princess 1998

A Time to remember
Touched by Angels
By Ronnie Powell
During the time my mother was pregnant with my twin brother and me and naturally taking all the precautions to keep us safe the unexpected happened. She and Grandmother Carrie were sitting on the front porch one day when a cat jumped up on Mother’s lap and sat down.
“Oh my Lord, Minnie!” Grandmother exclaimed, “That child inside you will be marked with the sign of the cat.”
Of course she did not know there were two of us.
I am told one of the first things Grandmother did after our birth was to check for a sign of the cat. Donnie was the first born and didn’t have the mark, but lo and behold on the back of my right shoulder a bright red spot revealed the face of a cat or so I’m told. After a time the redness faded leaving an indentation that according to most people, vaguely resembles the face of a cat. I have yet to see it clearly and cannot attest to its validity an have not concerned myself with the mark. I like cats.
My relationship with cats is normal in addition to my love of dogs and horses. I have helped my wife Joyce rescue many cats over the years and treated them with the respect and dignity required of all God’s creatures. I must admit there is something special about a kitten or an adult cat that has become family.
Approximately nineteen years ago, the day before Christmas, a tiny ragged kitten wandered into Windyville. She took refuge in a small dog house, disrupting the solitude of the dog that lived there. She was a mere scrap of fragile life and hardly more than a dirty tuft of white fur. Wild, hungry and frightened she cowered in a corner of the dog house hissing at the sight of me. I reached in with a heavily gloved hand and brought forth the now shrieking kitten. I held her close and in those few moments as I looked into the amber eyes and she into mine, I knew I had found a soul mate, unaware at the time that I was in the presence of a queen and destined to be her loyal servant. She was named Christmas and she grew into a beautiful creature that knew the hour of my arrival home each day and sat in a window waiting for me. The few years of her life passed too quickly and one night after a prolonged illness she passed away in my arms.
One particular day several years ago while Joyce and my youngest daughter was walking along a road east of Windyville they came up on a stray kitten. She too was lost, hungry and in desperate need of care, but unlike Christmas she was not of royal heritage, but more of the common variety as I am. She was a mixture of a chainsaw, thistle and Bengal tiger, but as I would soon discover a life long companion. She was always around me when I was outside and a nuisance more than not, demanding my undivided attention.
The kitten turned over a can of oil on day while I was changing oil in my Volkswagen and not being a cussing fellow, I said instead, “Dimmit, get away from here!” The name stuck. Yet for all of her independence, Dimmit was truly a devoted friend that continued to share life with me. She lived twenty years and up until the moment of her death she retained her unerring devotion to me.
There were others who were my friends and companion and to name a few, one was Angel and another was frisky and Jake, and a host of others but Christmas and Dimmit were different somehow, drawn to me and me to them in a most special way. At present there is Misty, a self proclaimed queen. She does no wrong and governs the house the way she sees fit. This attitude is just fine with us for she is a gentle creature living out her life in our home, safe, warm and content.
I cannot say for certain the mark of the cat or for that matter the mark of a snake, dog or anything else is real or just superstition. I do know that in my case the mark of the cat was more like the touch of angels and has been a delightful and meaningful experience. Adios