Horrible Dinner Eti-"Cat"

      Here is an experience that I have shared many times and wrote down in my journal years ago. I've been asked on multiple occasions to share it on my blog. I've decided to go ahead but I have omitted some names to protect the innocent! I will warn you that some of you will find great humor in this, but others will be horrified. I hope that the humor will outweigh the horror.

      I served a mission in the California Santa Rosa Mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints from Nov. 1988 to Nov. 1990. I had many wonderful experiences that helped shape my life in so many ways. The people that I met are still cherished and many are still in contact with me today.

     The Santa Rosa mission covered the northern coastline of California. It ran along the Hwy 101 from the Golden Gate Bridge to the Oregon border. The area included the beautiful wine country of the Napa Valley as well as the mighty Redwood forest.

     While serving in the city of Santa Rosa, my companion and I were invited to dinner at a church member's home in Sebastopol, a small town about 4 or 5 miles away. The member was an elderly lady in her upper 70's or possibly early 80's. She was very sweet and visiting her home was like visiting one of my grandmother's.

     Dinner was planned for 6pm and we were riding bikes so we left Santa Rosa a little after 5pm so we wouldn't be late. This also allowed enough time for us to get off our bikes and cool off a bit so we weren't too sweaty going into her home. The bike ride was nice. I had been riding bikes during my entire mission and was in great shape. The terrain was mostly flat with just a few hills and the landscape was beautiful.

     We arrived at her home about 10 minutes early so we waited for a bit before we knocked on her door. We wiped the perspiration from our foreheads and locked up the bikes together. We walked up the steps and knocked. There was no answer so we knocked again a little harder. After a few seconds we heard the door handle start to wiggle and she opened the door. (I will refer to her as "Sister Smith". Her real name will not be revealed for reasons you will understand later.)

     Sis. Smith was so happy to see us and I could tell that she didn't have company over very often. We were happy that we could spend some time with her and alleviate some of her loneliness if only for an hour or so.

     As we walked into her home one of the first things that caught my eye was that there were lots of pictures hanging on the wall. Oddly, only one of them was of humans. I guessed that one was of her with her parents many years prior. The rest of the pictures were of a cat. All the same cat. Some of the pictures had the cat dressed up in cute little outfits. Others had the cat playing with a toy or some string. Some were just serious pictures take from what looked like a professional studio. My companion and I looked at each other and I could tell he was as taken back as I was.


     Sis. Smith invited us to make ourselves comfortable as she was still finishing up cooking the meal. We offered to help but she said there wasn't much to do and we could just sit and rest for a bit. We walked over to the sofa and sat down. Almost immediately the cat from the pictures came around the sofa and started purring and rubbing against my leg. He looked to be pretty old and a little overweight. Probably spoiled by this sweet old lady. Sis. Smith said, "Jasper, say hello to the missionaries." I reached down and gave the cat a little scratch behind the ears and then left him alone. I am not a big fan of cats and wasn't real interested in getting to involved with Jasper.

     Jasper continued to rub my leg but I just ignored him as I tried to carry a conversation with my companion and Sis. Smith who was talking to us from the kitchen. After a few minutes the cat began to scratch and claw at my pant leg. I tried to pull my leg away. Again, more scratching and clawing. I was nervous that my pant leg would get ripped or marked and I didn't have the funds to buy new clothes so I kept pushing the cat away. I even tried to push him over to my companion's pant leg but Jasper would have none of that. He came right back to me and clawed and clawed. I could feel his little claws on my skin through my pants and I was starting to get real annoyed. I kicked at the cat. Not hard but just enough to back him away from me. He bounced right back to me.

      I couldn't believe I was having to fight this cat! My companion was not helping the situation either. He just laughed and kept saying "sic him Jasper, sic him!"

      Finally I had to do something that would make the cat want to stop. What could I do. I didn't want to cause a scene in front of this nice old lady who was making me dinner. Without much thought I reached down and held my hand in front of Jasper's face. I placed my thumb over the nail of my middle finger and then quickly flicked the middle finger at the nose of the cat. The face of my fingernail caught Jasper square on the nose.

      I should just end the story here...But I can't.

      Without a whimper, whine, screech or sound, Jasper dropped to the floor at my feet. I stared at him for a few seconds. He wasn't moving. Not even a little. I nudged him with my foot and still nothing. I turned and looked at my companion. He had stopped laughing and now his eyes were wide and he had a look of pure horror in his face. "Is he dead?" he asked.

       Again, I nudged the cat with my foot. I reached down and tried to lift him onto his feet but he slumped right back to the floor. I didn't have to answer my companion's question. Jasper was dead.

      Horrified I looked up towards the kitchen. I had been unaware that Sis. Smith was still continuing on with our conversation. I mumbled something to her just to keep her aware that we were listening. I turned back to my companion and asked him what we should do. He said I needed to tell her and I rebutted vehemently to the contrary. "Look at her!" I exclaimed. "Look at this room! This cat is her whole life!"

      I saw the realization come over my companion. If we told her what happened she might die from the shock. I didn't know what to do. That is when I had what I call a stupor of thought. This means that there was no thought involved in my action. I reached down and lifted up the skirt of the sofa we were sitting on. I grabbed Jasper with my other hand and quickly swept him underneath and let the skirt back down. My heart was racing and my stomach was sick. My companion wasn't doing much better.

      I then sat through the most uncomfortable dinner of my life. She was so happy and tried so hard to please us with her conversation and a good meal. After finishing our meal we said a prayer with her. Sis. Smith asked me to offer it. Worst day ever. I stumbled through it as quick as possible without sounding like we were in too big of a hurry. We shook her hand and told her thanks and she showed us to the door. I hesitated on the porch and thought about telling her about Jasper. I looked into her tired old face and just couldn't do it. I walked away and we rode our bikes home.

      I never found out how Sis. Smith found her cat. I hoped it was quick and that Jasper hadn't began to stink or anything. I prayed that Sis. Smith would be OK without her beloved feline companion. I also prayed that God would forgive me. I didn't know what was worse, killing Jasper or withholding the fact from Sis. Smith.

      I still despise cats. But I would never intentionally cause harm (or worse) to one. Especially one that was so dear to someone that I knew. All I know is that the whole "cats have 9 lives" story is a farce. Unless Jasper had been nose-flicked 8 other times.