I'm sure I am not the first cat lover who has fallen in love with her feline companion. I sit and look at my cat, Reilly, who I think is absolutely gorgeous, and wonder what goes on behind those yellow, mysterious eyes.
I figure that God must love cats very much because S/he chose to give them those big, beautiful slanted eyes in colors us humans can only envy, such as yellow or green, and sometimes the purest shade of blue reminiscent of a clear, spring sky. That's besides a face of exquisitely refined features, and a coat often composed of multi-colored patterns of hair that generally evokes awe in us humans. The patterns can take the form of stripes or swirls or circles, it does not matter. They are almost always colorful and eye-catching.
Besides all those miracles, there's a cat's belly. Nothing else in nature is as soft and sweet as a cat's belly. I love to pick my Reilly up and cradle him in my arms so that his belly is face up. Then I kiss it, delighting in its sweet odor and softness. Reilly, in the meantime, is not too happy. He tries to push me away with his front paws, and I know he is praying as hard as he can that I'll put him down and leave him alone.
Like many cats, he does not like to be picked up, especially belly-up. He barely tolerates my picking him up at all and holding him against my shoulder, like you would hold a baby. However, I think he understands that it is something I, his companion from another species, enjoy doing. He allows me a couple of minutes of holding him against my shoulder before he begins to squirm and push away.
My Reilly is truly a work of nature's art. He's a medium long-hair, with a coat the colors of peach and beige. He has an unusually long full, fluffy tail that frequently sways gracefully from side to side as he walks along. A relative once commented that he could sweep up the floor with that tail. I love to pull on it, which he doesn't seem to mind, or else I take it and brush his face with the end of it. He knows I'm playing around.
I can't help but think that God favors cats over people. We have to work and earn money in order to maintain ourselves; but a cat will be fed and provided for if it lives in a home, and doesn't have anything to worry about. All a cat needs to do is just be. And for doing nothing, contributing nothing to society or to the progress of the planet, the cat is given all those awesome attributes I have described.
We humans are not half so colorful or graceful in appearance. Now I know the argument is that the cat may be prettier; however, they are not able to think in the abstract, lack creative ability, certainly do not possess any high degree of intelligence, and therefore, belong to a lesser class of beings. We humans, on the other hand, although lacking in many of the amazing physical attributes of cats, are the ones gifted with dominion and power over them and every other being on this planet, not to mention the planet itself.
But I frequently have the feeling that the cat knows more than it lets on in this regard. Anyone who has ever owned a cat has sensed this. It is as if your cat is saying, `You may think you own me, but I know better.' I recall a humorous axiom in this regard that I heard a while back: dogs have masters, but cats have staff. So true. Although we may think we are the owners and are in charge, your cat doesn't see it that way at all.
And that brings me to the question, what does a cat think about? For sure, it is not worrying about who possesses control in this household. Reilly knows the answer to that. I watch him sit and stare off into space for long periods of time, as cats like to do, which leaves me wondering what is going through his little head. I'm sure some activity is going on.
He sometimes will suddenly look up and focus on something off in the distance, his body stiffening, as if he is seeing someone or some activity, although to the human eye, nothing is there. It is at such times that I am prone to believe cats see feline spirits who may be communicating with them. They see either things or beings that we cannot see. Why else would the cat suddenly focus so intensely, its body stiffening up as if alerted by something?
When Reilly is lying on the floor, looking relaxed and at ease, gazing off into nowhere, I wonder if he doesn't dream of the old days, before I adopted him. He may have half-starved back then, but at least he could run freely through the grass, relishing the feel of it under his paws, perhaps chasing after bugs and butterflies. The sun beating down on the earth, the sweet smell of the grass, the dizzying flight of some bug or butterfly … those must have been the fun times for him. The big drawback, of course, in the old days was not finding enough food and water to subsist on.
Then someone caught him and turned him over to the animal shelter. They, in turn, put him, a few other cats and some dogs up for adoption at a pet shop not too far from where I lived at the time. He long since has gotten used to two square meals a day and plenty of fresh water, but I'm sure he misses romping freely in the sunlight, chasing after the bugs and butterflies.
It's a trade-off. He can't go outside and run around any more, but at least he's safe in my house, and for sure well fed. I think he knows that. He likely has thought about it, and decided that he has a good deal, even though he had to make a great sacrifice. Or else one of the feline spirits explained it to him.
