St. Anthony tries to help more than once
Dear St. Anthony,
Last week my precious Pip, my little tortoise shell feline friend, went missing. For three days I face booked, phone called, and searched the streets, ignoring your whispered suggestions. “Don’t be silly, Antonio… she couldn’t be there. How would she have gotten in? And I would have heard her calls for help.”
I continued to search, growing more and more depressed, even imagining her in the jaws of a coyote. On the fourth day I stood staring out the window at a hailstorm, imagining her pressed into some uncaring corner, hunched miserably against the cold and wet. Again you whispered, and again I clicked my tongue at you. “Antonio… really! You’ve got to come up with something better than that.” You persisted, and I gave in at last just to prove you were wrong.
Making my way to the storage space under the kitchen, I went down the stairs and pushed open the door listlessly. Poking my head into the darkness I said resignedly, "Pip, Pip…” I heard a scrabbling sound, and looked down just in time to see a brown and orange form erupt from the gloom. She leaped from her tomb and landed on the step in front of me, wide-eyed and jubilant. I stared down at her in shock, disbelief, and joy. Here was the perfect spot for the expression, “I couldn’t believe my eyes!”
This morning I asked you what I could do for you now, and you told me to pick up the Messenger. You even directed me to the page. There it was… St. Anthony Bread.
Thank you, San Antonio… again.
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