In my other life I think I must have been a cat.
I came to this conclusion yesterday when I went to take a nap and noticed our cat curled up on the top bunk. She noticed me when I sad her name. She opened one eye, yawned, burrowed down into a more comfortable position and went back to sleep.
The poor thing had returned from a very busy day of being entertained by blowing grass and watching robins pull fat worms from our garden. No wonder she was tuckered out.
If I were to come back as a cat, I would not want to be one of those homeless rangy animals with knotted fur and wild eyes.
No, I would be like our Katie, only older, fatter and less inclined to get excited over the sound of a fly buzzing.
I would doze in the sun, and groom myself, and go grab a snack when the mood hit me. I would believe, as Katie apparently does, that the world existed to serve me. If I were particularly pleased with the work of one of my servants, I might allow them to scratch my back or sit next to me on the sofa.
But I was born a human girl and grew into a woman, wife and mother. As such I tend to the needs of the husband, the house, the clothing, the food, the children, and yes, even the cat.
Sometimes, if I am lucky, I get to take a nap.
And those I serve often come up to me to get their back scratched or to sit next to me on the sofa.
It’s not a cat’s life. But it’s good, nonetheless.