Humans spend way too much time fretting about the future. They worry, they plan, they talk about what they are going to do, but fail to do much in the moment they are living.
They need to observe cats for a happier life. Cats care about what’s going on right then and there, not what’s going on the next day. Unless it involves going to the vet, then that’s cause to worry. Excluding that, even if it’s something awful happening like a dog chasing after you or not enough cat food on your plate, you deal with it as it happens, not lie on the floor dreading that it may one day happen. Because it may not.
However, I will add that having gone to Japan, I do see that at times there is value in planning, and also, learned about how sometimes you can’t help but worry about future events. I stressed over what the cat box situation would be in Tokyo, which, turned out fine. Stressing solved nothing, but it did help me understand Audrey a tiny bit better.
Right now, Audrey’s chirping about, going on and on about improvements in the next year. She does this every January. She pulls out a sheet of paper, chews on the end of a pen, and stares off into space for a really long time. Eventually she writes something down, and declares to me how the new year would be better. Then pesters me until I run away.
This time I jump up on the table to see what she is writing.
“2023 News Year’s Resolutions.” Followed by a smiley face, a carrot, and an odd shaped cat face.
She reaches out to pet me on the head and rub my ears.
“Are you making any resolutions for the new year? Maybe eat more tuna?” she asks.
My ears perk up. I definitely could eat more tuna. Maybe this resolution stuff wasn’t complete nonsense.
Giving it a whirl, I came up with the following:
1. Eat more oysters
2. Eat more tuna
3. Go back to Japan
4. Lose a pound, so when I go back to Japan, I won’t be the fat cat puttering around
5. Walk on the treadmill to lose weight, since eating less isn’t going to work if I’m eating more tuna and oysters. Ten minutes a day, that’s what I’ll do.
Audrey bought that weird contraption during the middle of 2020. She walks on it and goes nowhere. Literally, she stays in one place.
I really don’t understand the purpose. If you want to walk, walk. Go outside, or pace around in the house, but strutting in one place and never going anywhere seems pointless and silly.
She tells me it will help her lose weight.
Well, if it helps her, then it should help me. Right?
Then again maybe I’ll just go outside and chase after squirrels. After all, that sounds more fun.