The world is going to hell. Terrorist attacks. Group attacks. Law enforcement attacks. Road rage attacks. Presidential candidates who want to tweet each other to death. It is overly extreme and utterly ridiculous. Something has got to change.
Which is why I thought about my cat.
Well, sort of.
We have three cats, two are solid black. One of them, Storm, stays out in the living room with me. The other night, I had just turned off the light to leave the living room and turned around, and she had plopped herself down on the floor. Not just anywhere on the floor—directly in front of my feet. And not just any plop—a fully stretched out plop, across the walkway, exactly where I’d been about to step. The only reason I saw her was because the hall light was on and I barely caught the peripheral bump of her body.
However, being in the dark with a completely black cat stretched across the walkway with the only result being me tripping over her still isn’t what got me to notice her. It was that she didn’t give a flip about anything except the fact she wanted me to pet her and she was going to put herself in the one place where I couldn’t miss her. I might injure myself, but I wouldn’t miss her.
She sprawled and stretched, meowed a little, purred a lot…and got what she wanted. She didn’t care about the terrorist shootings. She didn’t care about the groups protesting about things out of context. She didn’t care that the only two nominees our country has as presidential candidates seem like the worst ones to date. She didn’t care that I had barely avoided an incident of road rage directly in front of me earlier in the day on the way home from work. Twice. (People really need to chill out behind the wheel.)
She just wanted love. And she got it. And it made me think: we should be more like my cat. Spread the love.