Today’s guest-blogger is Angels on Earth editorial assistant Kelly P. Gallagher.
My parents’ cat, Murphy, isn’t exactly a model pet—at least not in my eyes. He chases his tail, makes loud noises at night and tries to steal food off the table.
When I first met Murphy during a visit home, I was hardly impressed. How could this fool live up to Tony, the cat I’d grown up with? I tried to find some good in Murphy. After he knocked all the dishes off the freshly set dining room table, my patience was up. “Bad boy!” I said, for what felt like the hundredth time.
“Don’t be so hard on Murphy,” my mom told me as she beckoned me to join her for coffee. “He’s a little angel.”
“Angel,” I scoffed. “How? He digs in your plants and tears at furniture. He doesn’t even let anyone pet him.”
“He lets me pet him,” Mom said. “Because I take the time to see the good in him.”
She pointed across the kitchen to where Murphy sat. “Don’t you see his angel wings?”
“Angel wings?”
“The orange wings! Against his white fur,” Mom said.
“Sort of… I think that’s a stretch, Mom.”
She smiled and shook her head. “Your father and brother don’t see it either. No one does. But I can. Say what you want about Murphy, but he’s a real angel to me!” She rose from her chair and pet the cat’s back. He started purring lovingly. “He loves having his wings scratched!” she joked.
I looked harder. I crossed my eyes, tried different angles. I did everything to see it and—then I did! Two tiny, rounded wings across his wide back. Maybe there was a little angel hiding in that goofball after all. He just needed the right person to see it.
