Is my time so precious that I should not share it with simpler forms of mind? Or is beauty of living so enriched to make time communing with pets a better use of a finite existence?
|Stop sucking face and pet me dammit!|
Learning is one of my habits. From rising until bed, gathering information seems to dominate my desire. From listening to a podcast to reading a book. Searching science papers for the latest discovery. Re-reading old philosophy texts to see if I can glean just a little more wisdom. Watching nature to see what patterns are present or changing. Every moment of discovery brings new joy and better understanding.
Life seems shorter as it moves on. With less and less of my finite time to unfold, each moment becomes more precious. As a child life seemed long and death so far away. Now I see cessations shadow and know an end of me draws nearer.
|Cuddling cat nap.|
My cats however take joy in naps. Sleep occupies more time than wakefulness. To them their grooming seems to be as much a pleasure as my learning to me. The hours of their lives go by, each one lived in the moment that it is.
Cats need attention. They are social animals more than we often admit. Petting, cuddling, and closeness are a part of what makes them feline. My cats have come to expect and even demand a consistent sensual bonding of touch.
Reading upon the couch or working at computer, the cats often come to sit on my lap. I don't mind it much, as long as claws stay in paws. Warmth in winter from their ample fur is nice. I am calmed by their touch and enjoy the closeness of another being in a quiet house.
|Come play with me!|
Sometimes my mind is deep in material at hand. The cat is a distraction from my purpose. I think I do not have time for them, their needs and wants. My heart goes to the place where I see intruders, needy and demanding upon my limited time resource. I growl, make fast gestures, or loud noises to let them know this is not time or place for communion.
Being simple creatures, they are often confused by my rejection, protestations only a momentary inconvenience for their purpose. The cat will wait a minute and return gently demanding my lap, hand and attention.
When not mindful, I can chase them away until they stay away. My own ambition being pursued, theirs is thwarted. I am the higher mind, the better thinker, the wiser knower of purpose and they must relent to my superior objectives. Their emotional pain is brief and other diversions or places of comfort soon found.
How many hours have I robbed from their desire for my own? In a decade of sharing nests, what is the count of my obstructions to their need? Is my project more important than theirs?
In a hundred years no one will remember their name or mine, their time or mine, their joy or mine.
Have I lost the opportunity to being in moments of shared contentment? Is not even this most basic of loves while alive a blessing in itself?