OK, sports fans, one more story from me. I’ve posted this one before, but it was a long time ago and we’ve had quite a few newbies since then.
When I was in college, I dated a guy whose father was the pastor of the Methodist Student Center at a smaller college in another part of the state. The family had two cats named Goodness and Mercy (from Psalm 23). Every night, the dad would let the cats out and they would be waiting for him to open the door first thing in the morning.
One crisp fall Saturday morning, Pastor Dad opened the door in his pj’s, bathrobe, and bare feet as usual, but no cats were waiting. He called, but no cats came (why WOULDN’T a cat come when it’s called???). He stepped out into his yard (one of the perqs of his position was a house on campus) and began to look for his errant kitties. As his efforts continued to be unsuccessful, he broadened the range of his search, calling his cats’ names the whole time.
Enter at this point, a campus cop on routine patrol. It’s early Saturday morning, when the sober are sleeping in and the sots are sleeping it off. His attention comes to the man with uncombed hair and unshaven face, in pajamas, bathrobe, and bare feet, wandering up and down the sidewalk shouting over and over again: “Goodness and Mercy! Goodness and Mercy!”