Advise from your friendly neighborhood feline

Or, why you should listen to people who have cats.

Dan Álvarez Ruano
Jul 27, 2017 · 4 min read

All great human inventions were once devised within the ethereal mind of Morgan Freecat and other such well known felines.

They listen while humans change their litter boxes and open their tuna cans. They purr when they are pleased. And they drop cans from high tables when a new idea surfaces.

This has been the course of human enlightenment throughout history, and is the prime reason behind what we like to call ‘the Great Human Civilization’.

How have I arrived at this conclusion, you might ask yourself. Am I, likewise, a member of the feline society. Unfortunately, I am not. I am not owned by a cat, but rather have a balanced relationship with a gorgeous Husky. I do, however, have friends that own cats, and I’ve noticed this: these are the people that have taught me the most important lessons. It might be because their cats have whispurred these answers into their ears.

This post, then, is an attempt to reconcile the fact that we must understand those we claim to love, and love those we claim to understand. And cats.


“As far back as I can remember, my parents have always had marital issues. Throughout the years, my ears gradually opened and their bouts shifted from being moot resonations throughout my home to strainful words bouncing aggressively between corners.

With no prior experience, I naturally took a side and defended it assiduously. I thought that by closing doors, taking punches and throwing a couple back, would things naturally grow into better times. I was infinitely wrong.

Eventually I was able to speak sensibly and form coherent sentences. I was no adult, but I could try. With this, I became the moderator. A terrible one at that, though, because I shortsightedly listened only to one of the corners. When time came to mediate, I failed to understand the other corner’s attitude. Both were right and wrong simultaneously, but I was biased to see only the wrong on one side and the right on the other.

This stage lasted a lifetime. A night of discussion would ensue from weeks of antagonism and tears. On these nights, I would mediate and attempt to fix what I had not broken, but would fail to do such a thing due, partly, to my shortsighted bias. I would not sit in the middle, but rather crouch beside one of the fighters, like a trainer with his athlete, while staring ravenously across the ring.

Even when I refused to understand, the other fighter loved me. When I spilled into lengthy sentences on the importance of peace within the household, a mix of pride, frustration and understanding would fill this person’s appearance. Pride, because I had grown into a little man with his own opinion. Frustration, because fault was not one-sided as I so heartily claimed. And understanding, because I reflected a part of this person’s past and brought back memories of own actions.

Tense peace would follow and it would permeate my home for days, weeks or months, interchangeably. Eventually, though, fights would rip through the simulated veil of tranquility and my heart would once again pounce at the thought of having to moderate their bitterness away.

Not after many nights of mediation did I begin to notice what I now know: this is not my job. As much as I would like to make it my own, it’s not. And what’s more important: if it were my job, I was doing a terrible attempt at fulfilling it.

I hardly came to this conclusion on my own. This is were cat 1 intervened. He helped me turn the page on what had been well over a decade of fights and offered a new angle. The angle was this: fighter 1 and 2 might or might not love each other still. A tumultuous life together might have hidden this love away under layers of heartbreaks. What cat 1 did realize was that fighter 2, the one that I so ravenously fought against, loves me immensely and has always done so. Both of them do. Through my biased eyes I have been denying what has been lurking in the shadows of my shortsighted vision: that love is understanding, and through understanding one can finally love.

It has been a while since the last night of moderation. I have now recluded myself to the simpler yet strenuous task of attempting to take back years of prolonged silence and hurtful gestures. To form a relationship with each of them, even when theirs might be broken, in the hopes of seeing theirs repaired. If it brings nothing of the sort, it at least brought true peace into my home. This is the power of understanding.”


Flowers, my love — Neko Katz

don’t look away
let yourself feel

the suffering, the anguish

don’t turn the volume down
let your eyes tear

for the hatred, the fear

don’t stay at home
with a cozy nap and a spotless mind

don’t stay indoors
while the wicked and hideous

gape through love and
break through hope

take a stand
beside those with

the suffering, the anguish,
the hatred and the fear


Hey! Thanks for reading through it all. If you got all they way down here, maybe click that little green heart? It really helps.

Hopes & Dreams

Dream and Exceed!

Dan Álvarez Ruano

Written by

escribo para no olvidar. leo para recordar. pueden descargar mi libro, «La Desaparición de las Flores», gratis en: goo.gl/kuQ7en

Hopes & Dreams

Dream and Exceed!

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