There’s an obscure legend: that a snow-white cat climbed the cross to gently lick the wounds in Yeshua’s feet and climbing higher, the bruised, bleeding flesh of his left hand, then took up her vigil on Yeshua’s shoulder with her flank facing his left cheek, and in his agony, the last thing Yeshua heard was the comforting, purring murmur of his mourner before he yielded up his spirit, surrendering his head to the warm, furry bosom of the greatest kindness he’d ever known.
Darkness crossed the land and the cat had disappeared, where, no one knew, though no one noticed her waiting atop the stone before the tomb when Yeshua came forth to greet that morning, and the first living One to touch him wasn’t Doubting Thomas but a purring, pure-white cat rubbing against Yeshua’s leg…
… the legend also says that her name was Myriam (Mary)…
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