Note to Myself No. 27

I know a lot of you are dog people.

Some of my friends are even wary about cats,

at least until they meet mine.

So bear with me here.

Cats have enormous amounts to teach us.

They are fully embodied beings.

They don't spend their lives in their heads,

ignoring the parts that are attached.

They eat until they're full

and then walk away from the bowl.

No emotional eating in felines.

And when they're hungry, 

they let you know it.

Sometimes in polite little mews,

sounds that grow increasingly more insistent

if you try convincing them that they'll 

just have to wait.

They're fastidious about grooming

and practice daily yoga,

especially loving (forgive me, canines)

the downward dog pose

and the cello player pose.

If they have a multiple cat household,

they'll bathe each other as a gesture of 

affection and solidarity. . .

though sometimes one will get a little

too bossy and the other will hiss

and storm off,

saying, "Back off, buddy!"

with ears twisted back and flattened.

They love finding a sunlight-warmed 

patch of floor and settling down

for a soothing nap

when they're tired or bored

or have run out of things to read.

They seek and give affection readily

if properly socialized as kittens.

They purr when contented,

hiss when frightened or offended,

eschew fake smiles

(Alice in Wonderland's Cheshire cat

notwithstanding.)

They are who they are.

Unabashedly.

There's good juju in that.