Mickey was a cat who lived in a house with an old man called Grandpa. He was called Grandpa by his grandchildren, so that was a good enough name for Mickey to call him when she talked to the other cats in the neighbourhood.
Every day Mickey slept in the sun on the front door mat, if it was sunny. And every night she slept on Grandpa's lap. This was a wonderful place to be because on cold nights Grandpa lit the fire, so the room was warm and his lap was just the right place for a cat to be.
One night, when the house was quiet, and Grandpa was sitting in his favourite chair beside the fire, Mickey jumped on to his knee and curled up. She purred for a while, to show Grandpa how much she appreciated him, then she closed her eyes and went to sleep.
But after a short time she opened her eyes again. Something was wrong. She sniffed the air and looked around.
Mickey could smell something burning. She looked at the fire to make sure it was safely behind the grate. It was. No embers had fallen out and burned little holes in the mat.
Mickey jumped down and walked to the door. She used her paw to open the door and looked into the hall. On a hook in the hall hung Grandpa's old coat. Mickey sniffed and went up to it. There was smoke coming from one of the pockets!
Mickey knew this was not supposed to happen, so she went back to Grandpa and called to him. "Mee-oww!" she said, "Meeoww! Meeoww!"
But Grandpa was asleep. He snored quietly, and he smiled as if he was having a very enjoyable dream. "I must wake him up!" thought Mickey. She climbed his leg and rubbed his face with her head. But Grandpa didn't wake up.
By now the smell of smoke was quite strong, but Grandpa stayed asleep. Mickey patted his nose and pulled at his whiskers, but he stayed asleep. "I'm sure I have to wake him," thought Mickey. "I'm SURE it's very important that I wake him!" Then she knew what she had to do.
"I DO hope he isn't cross with me," she thought as she opened her mouth. Then she went CHOMP! She bit Grandpa on the thumb. "Ouch!" said Grandpa, waking up, "What did you do that for?!"
Mickey jumped down and ran to the door. "Meow!" she said. Grandpa got up, rather cross, and opened the door. "You naughty cat," he said. "I think you can stay outside tonight . . ." Then he stopped and looked at his coat.
"My coat's on fire!" he gasped. Quickly he took the coat down and carried it outside. Mickey sat by the fire and watched as Grandpa shook the coat and stamped on it. Then Grandpa reached into one of the pockets and pulled something out.
"My pipe!" he said, "I must have left it in there by mistake!" He bent down and picked Mickey up. "You good cat," he said, "If that fire had gotten any worse the house might have burned down, and I would have been killed!"
Grandpa sat down again, and Mickey sat on his knee and purred. "You know," said Grandpa, "the Bible says the best time to stop something big and bad from happening is when it is small and bad. A little smouldering pipe can start a big fire. Thank you Mickey, for warning me before it got any worse." Mickey smiled and purred a little louder.
"Thoughts are small,," said Grandpa, "But they can turn into big actions. That's why the Bible says: "Search me, O God, and know my heart: try me, and know my thoughts." Psalms 139:23 Mickey just had to agree.