Bad Ben

We’ve had a great handyman working at the Hayley House this week on an assortment of small projects.

These are the type of projects that the Hayleys could probably do ourselves, if we were willing to break out an instruction book and pinky swear not to fight with each other.

They are also the type of projects that Friends of the Hayleys could do, if the Hayleys didn’t feel guilty calling for help all the time. I’m fairly certain some friends think home repairs/advice/improvement abilities are the only reason we keep them around.

So enter Travis. He’s a good handyman, a trusted referral and an all-around great guy. He’s a tentmaker, helping hapless home owners while running a ministry.

I tell you this because it’s important background for this story. I promise.

Travis gave us a progress call as we were driving home the other evening. After discussing the status of various projects, he ended the call by saying:

Now, there are three things I want to make you aware of.

First, I didn’t clean up after myself because I couldn’t find your broom. I looked for it, but never found it. (Join the club! I can’t find anything either.)

Second, I didn’t put the supplies back under the kitchen sink because I didn’t want to mess up the order. (I confess that I am an organization geek and was very happy to put things away myself.)

Third, I’ve prayed about this. Really, I have. I’ve prayed about it three times, in fact. I saw your black cat several times while I was there, but only saw the tan cat one time. I was careful with the door but I just can’t say that he stayed inside. I looked everywhere for him, but never found him. I’ve just had to ask the Lord to take care of him if he got outside.

Like I said, a really great guy. A true minister at heart.

We assured Travis that we weren't worried. Ben, you see, is a master at hiding. His fur blends right in with the carpet and sofas. He loves to sleep under beds and on dining room chairs. That cat can not be found if he doesn’t want to be found.

Furthermore, Ben does not want to be found when he is sleeping. And he is sleeping a great deal of the time.

I told Travis that I routinely lose Ben in the house. At least once a week I’m sure he’s figured out how to open doors and is gallivanting about the neighborhood because I simply can’t find him…until I open a can of treats and somehow, mysteriously, he’s right at my feet.

So sure enough, we got home and there was Ben, yawning and stretching by the utility room door.

This is yet another reason why we know that cats are of the devil.