On Kitty Cats and the Meaning of Life


Ask my cat, Annabelle, what the meaning of life is and she will tell you. Or, in her own existential way, she will say nothing. And there you go. My cat knows more about the universe than the most brilliant of Stephen Hawking’s theories of quantum mechanics. I am breathless. She is wholly endowed with the patience and curiosity of a child’s mind. Annabelle can chill on the windowsill for an afternoon doing no more than sky-gazing. When she is hungry, she will jump on the bed and nuzzle my face for HOURS. In my cranky pants way, I hurl her off the bed, then she climbs back for another nuzzle again and again ad infinitum. The persistence is phenomenal! Then there is nap time (all day). And god forbid finding a tiny piece of pasta on the floor, that thing can be patted back and forth like its a wild safari through the jungles of Madagascar.

If this was some teenage valley girl we would say “Where are you’re goals in life? You slobby slob you!” But no. Quite the contrary. I am inspired by the patience, the stability, the playfulness, the persistence! And its all about the tiniest of things that we don’t even think matter. Annabelle has shown me what it means to be present and give totality to whatever you are doing at any given moment. She’s shown me that the Physical expression is a celebration to be relished in. My cat is the coolest. And she doesn’t even care.

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