Finding the divine in The Mooch

My next door neighbor Rich and I have been running a soup kitchen for our local community of alley cats for years. Like all well meaning charities, it began with a spontaneous gesture of kindness when we started feeding three adorable little kittens that were born wild on Rich’s garage roof-top. Once word got out amongst the colony of feral cats that two cat loving suckers were putting out free grub, we soon found ourselves feeding every bewhiskered drifter passing through the hood. I didn’t mind the occasional visitor, but when a chubby black and white opportunist with malevolent green eyes and an attitude began to show up regularly, I dubbed him “The Mooch” because he so obviously felt entitled to a daily handout. Like a character from an F. Scott Fitzgerald novel, he would suddenly appear attired in his shabby tuxedo and dirty white paws, exuding an aura of privilege and disdain, even though he was nothing more than a presumptuous free-loader dependant on the largesse of others. It was a joy to feed the kittens- who we named Uno, Dos, and Tres- because they were so cute, but The Mooch was another matter. Cranky and hostile—his menacing demeanor threatened calamitous consequences if there was so much as a thought of withholding his Meow Mix.  Each day, I would yell at him and try to shoo him away, but he would merely wait until my back was turned before muscling his way past the kittens to guzzle what he apparently considered his fair share of cat chow. It became a power struggle that I had no hope of winning. After about a year, Dos and Tres left to make their own way in the world, but Uno-a tawny Siamese with menthol blue eyes and a gentle disposition- decided to stay within the safe confines of my backyard. The Mooch cunningly seized the opportunity to latch onto a lonely Uno as his steady meal ticket and the two formed an unlikely friendship. While I grew fond of Uno, I never could warm up to his wily sidekick, but grudgingly tolerated him because Uno was so obviously attached to him—which, of course, the clever Mooch was counting on. Every morning, I would be greeted by the sight of the mismatched pair patiently waiting on the back porch for their breakfast—my beautiful Uno and a defiant Mooch daring me to make his day.

It was easy to see the divine essence in Uno’s lovely blue eyes, but frankly, the Mooch’s churlish behavior made him seem anything but divine. After sitting with my judgments for a while, it occurred to me that maybe The Mooch was just one more lesson in my spiritual curriculum. Some soul searching revealed that perhaps I’m more inclined to be kind and loving towards those individuals who I deem as worthy and deserving. I was forced to admit that I had attached a price tag to my generosity according to an arbitrary yardstick by which I measured the value of another being. I obviously prized Uno because he was so gorgeous and affectionate. But I couldn’t stand The Mooch because he was just plain nasty and repaid my kindness by hissing and spitting at me every day. I realized that my judgments prevented me from seeing The Mooch as he is-one of God's beloved and valued creatures.  Eventually, I managed to overlook his character flaws and tried to greet him every day with as much affection as I did Uno.

Just as I was beginning to appreciate The Mooch as a Divine Being having a feline experience, he stopped coming around.  I guess I learned what he came to teach me or he'd still be showing up on my doorstep --expecting his daily handout of unconditional love.  To my utter amazement, I’m sad that he’s gone and really hope that he’s in a better place, wherever he is. I miss the way he greeted me with that special 'hisssss' warning me off every morning. I grew to admire his resourcefulness and came to recognize his surly ways as instinctive defenses that helped him to survive the danger of the alleyways. I can’t say I ever really liked him, but I trust that God thought him up for a reason and that he is made from the same divine stuff as all the rest of us.