And a Little Child Shall Lead Them

About 3 1/2 years ago, in the still of winter, we walked out our back door at night to find a fluffy white cat that didn't look like it would survive the night. While its coat was quite fluffy, it was skinny as a rail. Its fur was matted and it could barely make a sound. We decided to give it a little tuna and warm milk -- its last meal, so it could die with a full belly. Poor thing. We had no idea whose cat it was, no collar, nothing. There was 6 inches of snow on the ground and it was still snowing. It was the least we could do....
Well, the next morning, the cat was there and looking a little better, so we invested in some cat food. Day after day, the cat grew stronger and, well, I guess you could say we adopted each other. He hunted the gophers and praire dogs and mice. We always knew when he got one because he always left the head on the front mat... In return, we gave it a nice warm blanket to sleep on, and mad sure he had plenty of food and warm milk. As Porter began to talk, he called the cat a "mee-now." (He called everthing by the sound they made. Meow -- mee-now, it's all the same, right?)
This morning our cat succombed to a painful bout with kidney or liver disease. We were so sad. The boys and I dug a nice grave and said a prayer and a little good-bye. At breakfast, Porter asked me, "Mom, do you know Jesus' number? Maybe you could call him and ask him to raise our cat from the dead." The faith of a child!