Just look at my big, lovable boy, Wesley.
He’s diabetic so I have to hide my bread and crackers at night. And of course he does annoying things like trying to wake me at 5:30 to feed him in the morning.
But he’s so cuddly, he’s incredibly patient with kids, and he loves to be outside from dawn to dusk (just like me) as soon as the weather warms up. His fur soaks in all of the sunlight and makes him almost hot to the touch.
And he loves to make the whole block his home, roaming everywhere and surveying the street and all of the houses from the top of our hill, finally sitting on Ron and Mary’s steps, making them walk around him to get into their own house (he does not consider their lack of convenience a reason for him to move.)
In summer Wesley catches squirrels and chipmunks and rabbits and mice and voles as easily as if he was a much younger cat. It’s really very impressive. (Gross at times.)
And oh…he sets a very high standard for how to relax. When he is lying next to me in bed in the early morning (after he’s had breakfast of course), he can get into such a relaxed state that his body becomes like a puddle of hot melted butter. It’s liquidy and soft and formless.
Some days I think about how great it would be to be a cat.
Mostly because Wesley makes it look so good.
A cat pours his body on the floor like water. It is restful just to see him.
by William Lyon Phelps
Of all animals, the cat alone attains to the Contemplative Life.
by Andrew Lang
I put down my book, The Meaning of Zen, and see the cat smiling into her fur as she delicately combs it with her rough pink tongue. Cat, I would lend you this book to study but it appears you have already read it. She looks up and gives me her full gaze.
Don’t be ridiculous, she purrs, I wrote it.
from “Miao” by Dilys Laing