Things I Learned From My Cat
I wish I were a kitten. Seriously, they have all the fun.
My life recently received the addition of what is basically the equivalent of a hyperactive furry paperweight in the form of a two-month-old tabby cat appropriately named Picky-Picky.
And dammit, I’m jealous. That kitten does whatever the hell she wants all day. More than that, this cat has some seriously enviable attitude. First of all, she’s sassy as heck, which is pretty admirable, but more than that, her attitude enables her to be happy — all the time. Short of receiving my Hogwarts letter several years too late and studying to be an animagus in order to transform myself into a furry ball of adorableness, the closest thing I can do to living like a cat is to develop an attitude worthy of a cat.
- Don’t let anybody push you around just because you’re the size of a football and weigh less than four pounds. Picky-Picky is so tiny that she can fit in a size ten running shoe, but you can bet she doesn’t know that. That cat struts around like she’s freaking Nicki Minaj. Bother her when she’s sleeping, and she’ll let out a sharp, biting hiss, followed by an actual bite if it comes to it — a warning, as if to say: “Don’t mess with me…or else.” Kitten fury? Sure. Effective? Definitely. People view her the way she views herself, and leave her alone. It works the same way with humans. Others tend to treat you based on the way you hold yourself. Hold yourself with confidence, and others will sense that and refrain from messing with you.
- Live in the moment. Picky-Picky pounces on everything that moves. Every. Single. Thing. Be it a spider scuttling across the floor, a piece of thread floating in the breeze, or somebody innocently scratching their leg, everything is prey for a kitten. She will grab it, bite it, jump for it, kick it, you name it. She runs around the room in circles over and over and over again, pausing only to spring onto furniture and enthusiastically attack any source of movement in her sight. Then, just like a flipped switch, she’s passed out — fast asleep. Where she is, whether she’s on the floor, on a chair, or on somebody’s lap, doesn’t matter. Picky-Picky sleeps where Picky-Picky sleeps. While I can only dream of following her life philosophy of “play till you drop”, I can maintain her level of focus in everything she does and work till I drop. (Way lamer, I know.)
- Never pass up an opportunity to have fun. Picky-Picky is my alarm clock. Every morning she struts into my room, leaps onto my bed, sniffs around until she finds my face, and then proceeds to stick her cold, wet, nose on mine, effectively startling me awake. Upon hearing my indignant (but affectionate) yell of “PICKY-PICKY YOU MEAN CAT”, she immediately begins to purr loudly in satisfaction and returns to picking around our room. Freaking cat. She enjoys scaring me out of my peaceful slumber. While I resent Picky-Picky’s personal means of enjoying herself, I appreciate her ability to live in the moment and derive satisfaction from the little things (like ruining my sleep. Thanks a lot, Picky-Picky). Like her, I can strive to enjoy every little thing as it happens — ants scurrying into a crack in the weathered sidewalk, the blast of cold air every time I open the door of an air-conditioned room on a sweltering summer afternoon, the color of the sky at dusk.
Having written all this out, I have realized that I’ll never be quite as cool as Picky-Picky, but hey, here’s to hoping.
You can follow Picky-Picky’s adventures here!