Dressing Your Cat

When I was about five years old, I began to take notice of the gospels at Sunday church service. The message I took most to heart concerned our duty as Christians to feed the hungry and clothe the naked. I was a literal-minded child and wanted very badly to be a good Christian, and this message really hit home with me.

I started trying to figure out ways that I, as a child, could apply it in my life. I didn’t have to look far. There were two urchins in my family who had plenty of food, but they had no clothes – Rosie and Pansy, our cats. My older sister and I tried dressing them in our baby doll’s clothes, but they were too small and the cats objected.

It wasn’t until I got a Raggedy Ann doll a few months later that I made an important discovery. Raggedy Ann was bigger than my other dolls, and she had a dress and a pinafore. She really didn’t need both, so I could let her keep the dress and the cat could wear the pinafore.

The day I discovered that Raggedy Ann’s clothes fit the cats was a major landmark for me. I had finally hit upon the way I could carry out Jesus’ message about clothing the naked. Why had I never realized before that our cats had no clothes? Well, now was the time to fix that.

I couldn’t find my sister’s cat, Pansy, so I went looking for my cat Rosie. Once I found her, I scooped her up and carried her into the playroom. I had Raggedy Ann’s pinafore all laid out. I thought Rosie would be very grateful for this first gift of clothes. It made me so happy to be able to help her this way.

While Raggedy Ann watched propped up against the toy box, I sat on the playroom floor with Rosie, slipping her forelegs into the puffy short sleeves and then buttoning the pinafore down the back for her. She fit it easily, much better than when we were cramming her into the baby doll’s clothes. I set her down on the floor, sure that she would walk around with her new clothes as if it was normal for her. I didn’t count on her reaction.

She crouched down on the floor, refusing to move. I tried to pick her up, but it was like she was glued to the floor. I nudged her in the rear, trying to get her to walk, but she wouldn’t budge. I thought maybe she would like it better outside, so I opened the door to the patio to let her out. She crept on her belly out the door and crouched on the patio, motionless.

I followed her outside and lifted her to her feet in the hopes of getting her to walk around and get to like the clothes. Instead, after hesitating a few seconds, she bolted and shot across the back yard. Like a streak of lightning, she headed out of the yard and towards the woods. The last sight I had of her was the white pinafore flapping in the breeze as she made her break for freedom.