Spiritual Lessons From a Homeless Cat

Blogging King, Seth Godin says, if you want to drive blog traffic don’t write about your cat (see #11).  This isn’t about my cat per se…

We have a cat.  I should clarify.  We never intended to get a cat.  A kitten chose to live at our house, constantly demanding food from us while morphing into a cat.  I fed her dog food, hoping that she might turn into a canine or just leave altogether.  At first she stayed under the porch, but then there was the night of the thunderstorm when we put her in the garage, which she mistook for a toilet.  After she stuck around for about 2 weeks we hung a name on her, and taught her how to use a litter box.  Before this, I thought the litter box thing was instinctual.

We call her Motor.  Motor is a four-legged life lesson on living spiritually.  This is my second go-round with a spiritual cat.  My other spiritual cat was named Satan.  So this experience is vastly different.  Now, I have no intention of writing a book called Motor and Me, nor selling its rights to a film company for a movie starring Jennifer Aniston.  It’s not that kind of relationship.  But in the past two months, Motor has taught me many things.

For instance, she has always assumed the best of me.  From the first time she came meowing through our back yard she trusted me.  We’ve all been taught not to ass-u-me, not to trust.  Motor assumes all day long.  She assumes that I will feed her twice a day.  That I will scoop her scat.  That I will pet her when I’m outside.  That walking under my next footstep is a safe idea.  In these assumptions she ascribes value to herself.

She reminds me that I am often too cautious with people.  Because I don’t want to make an ASS of U or more importantly, ME, there’s a darn good chance I won’t trust U at all.  This cat believes she is worthwhile.  She trusts that she is worth lap space.  Metaphorically speaking of course, it is sometimes difficult to believe that someone wants to scratch us behind the ears.  I’m not sure if it takes more faith to believe that God or a fellow, fallen creature created in God’s image values you.  All I know is that I want it to be true of both God and man.

Pet Cemetery Cat made certain assumptions as well.  She assumed everyone was an enemy.  She struck first.   To go through life wary of everyone just makes you mean and untrustworthy yourself.  We kept a spray bottle filled with holy water and memorized Latin prayers to ward off her attacks.

a likeness of my old cat

To my new cat, I am an accepting version of God.  I give her the space and acceptance she assumes.  I really like her, even though I am far from a “cat guy.”  Cats are too aloof.  They ignore you except when they need something.  Which, I suppose, is how it goes with God.  “I’m hungry.   I need some money.  Can I have a new Ford?  Is there a God out there?”  At least that’s how I tend to be; meowing for divine attention in the morning and at night.

Satan, the cat, was much different.  She never begged or asked for anything.  She just took it.  When she got hungry she bit off someone’s toe and ate it or removed a fair amount of flesh from a human calf muscle.  She made everyone miserable.  We took her to a farm.  In hindsight, I think my mom must have hated that farmer.

Motor has a brilliant sense of work, play and rest.  She heads into the woods mid-morning for some hunting.  By lunch time she is licking rodent remnant off her whiskers.  At first it was gross; half an animal hanging out of her mouth, bones crunching between her teeth.  I still find it a bit sadistic when she brings chipmunks into the middle of the yard to play with them before she eats them.  But, hey, I’ve seen Lion King a few too many times to question the “Circle of Life.”  Hunt, play, eat, rest; everyday it is the same routine.  Once she brought two mice to the steps, but I think she found that excessive.

Balancing life is easier for a cat.  I suppose cat-life comes with less worries.  She doesn’t have to go the bank to deposit her food money.  She doesn’t have to go to the golf course to have a good time.  Cats, good cats like Motor, work and play and assume all day long.  Then comes sleep.  To my knowledge she does not take any form of barbiturate.  She just sleeps when she’s done working and tired of playing.  Somewhere in the bible it says this: “To eat and drink (and sleep) and find satisfaction in your work; this too I see is from the hand of God.”  Clearly the cat has this figured out.

She doesn’t have facebook or email.  She doesn’t run a blog.  She doesn’t submit writings to journals.  She doesn’t market herself to other cats (at least not yet).  Nearly everything I do, Motor avoids.  Yet one could argue that she is better at the rhythms of life than many humans.  Definitely better than me.