I am watching an old cat play with nothing more than a corner of a rug and stray particles of dust dancing in the sunshine. He complains loudly every now and then about his empty food bowl only to return to the task at hand: chasing things that aren't there and cleaning his paws like there's no tomorrow. He's had somewhat of a stressful life (though the husband would say the cat's got it made) and he doesn't get too excited about too much anymore. Every so often, however, you see a spark of what that cat use to be and let me tell you, it brings a glimmer of joy to my heart. Even now he his performing his trademark acrobatic trick to conquer the feet of the middle as he walks by. Pure bliss.
I think I've pondered before the attitude of a cat. Sure they're moody for the most part and leave no doubt as to who they think is in charge, but their needs are relatively few and once they're satisfied, they really don't complain a whole lot. They prefer the solitude of a window sill to a rowdy group on a street corner (and I have no idea where that comparison came from). At any rate, they are much more relaxing to be around than most people I know.
Oops. I should probably rephrase that. I love being around the people I know.
Just not the ones who complain every Sunday morning that there is not one decent church left on the planet. Really? Or the married ones who drool publicly at every half-dressed member of the opposite sex that crosses their path. Come on, now. That's just tacky and insulting to your supposedly better half. If you must, drool in private at the very least.
Okay, okay. I'll stop with that. This could get ugly quick if it hasn't crossed that line already. Besides, I've got to get ready for my own church service which I happen to love even if it (or the people in it) are nowhere near as perfect as heaven will be... imagine that. Meanwhile, there's a pair of big, green eyes boring into me, sending me a silent and yet forceful message:
Fill my food bowl and I'll be your friend for life.
I love that old cat.
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