Cat

As I write this, I’m sitting beside our cat. He’s sleeping on a pillow that one of the kids left on the couch. He has been sleeping for the majority of the day, from what I have seen. He periodically wakes up to stretch or change position, then drifts off again. What a life. What a jerk. Wait! Movement… his left ear is flickering.

I’d like to be a cat. If I could choose to be an animal, I think a cat would be right up there near the top. Actually, it would probably be something like living in a retirement village. I’m not sure what it’s like to live in a retirement village, but I assume it would be like living the life of a cat. It’s all good. You don’t have to do jack shit. My cat could walk into a room, take a leak in a plant, and someone would clean it up. I imagine a senior citizen could take a leak in a plant at the village and get away with it, too. If the cat’s hungry, someone feeds him and he doesn’t have to prepare the food. Same deal at the village – grandpa’s hungry, someone makes him a sandwich. Thirsty? Stand near the bowl/glass long enough and someone will bring you water. The cat doesn’t clean his litterbox. The retirement village has housekeeping to take care of the toilets. All the cats I have ever known prefer to find a nice sunbeam coming through a window in the house to snooze in. If I lived in the retirement village, I would park my rocking chair in the sunbeam and snooze. The best part of being a cat or living in the retirement village is you don’t have to work. Freedom! And, really, you can hiss at people when you don’t get your way.

What could be better than being a cat? Being a cat in a retirement village! Yes.

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