6. Cats and Dogs
When I woke up, I remembered something I’d written years before about cats and dogs in a workbook called Meditations for the First Thirty Days:
“My dog’s brain is the size of a walnut. We used to walk in the woods. Two days in a row he got a big thorn in his paw. Now we walk the other way. When I try to walk him toward the woods, he sits down. He cannot be forced onto the path where he felt the pain. I have a much bigger brain than my dog. Time and again I walked down a path that nearly killed me. I know he knows he’s smarter than I am. (Now and again I have to remind him who smashes his muzzle on the cabinets because he’s forgotten for the umpteenth time he cannot stop on the linoleum.)
“My cat has an even smaller brain than my dog. He can transform a ray of sunshine into an event. He has an insatiable curiosity, and no creature better exemplifies gratitude and contentment. Several times a day he takes an inventory of himself, cleaning what needs to be cleaned, and stretching what needs to be stretched, and purring about nothing.”
Today I will try to be as smart as the average dog.
Today I will try to be as grateful and content as the average cat.
Sober Not Somber © 2015 by Ken Montrose
(Just a reminder: Sober Not Somber is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)