A cat could really give a shit about the winter solstice, Kwanzaa, Christmas, Hanukah, or saturnalia. Daddy’s home and that means a poignant meow can bring cat food any hour of the day. Sometimes he finds bows and tries to stick them to my neck with Scotch tape, but I can get those suckers off in an instant. Where’s the catnip?
Sometimes, I wonder if God is a cat.
I'm pretty sure Jesus was because he came back to life at least once and a cat could do that 7 more times. The Second Coming loses some of its thunder if Jesus is a cat with 9 lives because that means he's got a whole lot more up the sleeves of his heavenly bathrobe. It might sound blasphemous, but Jesus the Cat makes more sense to me than those murderous Four Horsemen in Revelations. Jesus the Kitty would say "Blessed are the peacemakers" and, anticipating Thomas Jefferson, "Render unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s, and unto God that which is God’s” because he has lives to spare, like some Divine video game.
God might be a cat, running up whenever I run my prayer wheel can opener, but I doubt it. There are billions of stars in our universe, billions of Hanukkah/Advent candles he must tend to. The sound of a can opener, even to the omniscient, has got to be way down on the triage maintenance list when the fates of entire galaxies are at stake.
Jesus, however, he came down here with one of his lives and visited us. He cooked up some fishes and loaves and even brewed a little wine. He got to know us and didn’t bring down hellfire on us the minute we failed to meet his expectations. He was human too, he understood. Like Bob the Graybar truck driver once told me, “we all fuck up sometimes – I even fuck up myself.” Jesus fucked up by trusting the Roman government and they crucified him. So much for rendering unto Caesar.
So now we are celebrating his birthday. Happy birthday, Jesus! We could have done better by you, but I’m sure you understand. Come back again, however many tries it takes – eventually we’ll get it right.
3:29:11 PM 
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