He adopted me. It wasn’t the other way around. It all started a couple of years ago when I opened a can of tuna. Suddenly, a spritely white cat with pink ears and a raccoon-like tail was standing on top of my recycling bin and peering into my kitchen window. I laughed and ignored his plaintive meowing. After all, this was not my cat.

Then came the Portland winter, with its damp and chill. One rainy morning I was recording a Liturgy Podcast on my kitchen table and was startled by a soft “meow.” There on my wood-paneled floor was that white cat, who must have sneaked into the house when I took the garbage out. I promptly opened the door to let him out but it was raining heavily. Instead, my feline guest chose to make himself comfortable on my living room couch, taking a nap while I continued my podcast.

And so it went for a couple of years. Whenever it rained, this cat would meow at my front door to come into the house, away from the inclement weather. I found out his name was Matthew and he lived with a family in the house across from mine. An obviously social creature, this cat didn’t like it when his family was away at work and school. Matthew was always welcome to visit, but I made it a point never to feed him. After all, he wasn’t mine.

Last month, I was visiting with my neighbors at their front porch. Sonia, mother of the family, informed me that they were moving to a far away neighborhood in an apartment that did not allow animals. Her kids were sad because they didn’t know what would become of their beloved cat. A light bulb went off in Sonia’s eyes: “Ken, would you like to adopt Matthew?” As if on cue, Matthew came up to me and rubbed up against my legs. How could I say no?

I thought Matthew would be sad for a couple of weeks with the departure of his family, but he took to me quite quickly. Of course, I’m the one who feeds him now, so that’s probably part of the bonding. He’s an outdoor cat but he seems to enjoy living in my house, following me around from room to room. When I’m working at my desk, he sits at my feet. While watching TV at night, he sits on the couch and seems to watch with me. On Sunday afternoons, I take a brief nap after a long morning of back-to-back liturgies. Lately, I have awakened from my nap with Matthew sleeping at my side.

St. Francis of Assisi had a holy sense of awe for God’s creation, and he often spoke reverently of “Brother Sun” and “Sister Moon.” Legends abound of how he preached to the birds and made peace between a wolf and the townspeople whom the animal had allegedly terrorized. Whether or not these legends are true, the point is that this humble saint saw God in all living things. St. Francis teaches us that God’s creatures deserve our respect.

As a writer who lives alone and works from home, I risk daily isolation. It’s one of the pitfalls of my craft. So Matthew is welcome company who adds a lot of joy to my life. On the Feast of St. Francis of Assisi, I give thanks for Brother Matthew, who chose me out of all the humans in the neighborhood to be his companion. In this feline loyalty, I clearly see a reminder of God’s love for me.