"Faith and Beef Pâté By Charles"

Morning chow for the stray cats, Peshwari and Daisy, and occasionally Wendal, the Tomcat, when he appears, along with Robbie the raccoon whenever he decides to show up.

Faith.

Stray and outside cats have a lot of it. If you’re late bringing their food, they might not wait by the door. But they don’t wander far. They linger just around the corner, close enough to see the moment the door opens. Somehow, they know it will open. Somehow, they know I’ll come.

And I do.

Not at 6:00 a.m. like they expected this morning. But around 7:45—because even the creator sleeps a little longer some days. Not out of neglect, just… preoccupied. Still, the promise holds. It’s like when Jesus showed up late and raised the man from the dead. A delay, not a denial. The word was kept, the doubters quieted.

Faith.

I think of it again, not as a sermon or a recruitment. I’m no preacher. Don’t want to be. Don’t care for most of them anyway—preachers, teachers, do-gooders, the ones always telling you how something should be done. Truth is, things get done by your own hands, your own clock, your own device. No one else's.
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A woman spoke the other day. I didn’t respond, just listened. She had no real faith. What she did have was hearsay—belief borrowed from someone else. “I don’t buy meat from Walmart anymore,” she said. “Because so-and-so saw how they treat it. Leave it out. Let it thaw. Re-freeze it again.”

Maybe it’s true. Maybe it’s not. The food industry’s a strange beast. But why sabotage someone else’s choice—someone who can’t afford more—based on a story that might be half-true, or not true at all?
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Faith would’ve dismissed the whole thing. Shrugged it off as hogwash.
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Because faith isn’t loud. It waits quietly near the back steps. It believes in what it’s seen. It knows the bowl will come, even if a little late.

After her morning meal, Peshwari, who is going blind, seems content. She senses me through vibrations and, from outside, knows the exact moment I wake up in the bedroom, waiting patiently at the door for me to come out. However, if I’m late, like this morning when I didn’t want to get up yet, they might wander further down the driveway to escape the sun.