My cat is Smarter Than I Am
In the morning my cat comes into my office, hops onto the desk and makes her way in from of me. Me, being the cat lover and great cat mom that I am, will put my hand under her belly and her bottom and hoist her onto my chest, up close to my neck, resting on my heart. It’s a place she gravitated towards as a baby kitten, and I immediately felt the connection.
When she’s done being snuggled, when she’s gotten what she needs, she’ll come out of her cuddly coma, and walk away. I can only assume, her need to be close, satiated.
Now, if only I could be as smart as her.
Often I will need that same attention from my husband but it’s taken me many years to recognize it, and although I can ask more easily than I used to, it still takes awareness and effort. Instead, my first reaction is to pout, snort internally about how he doesn’t know what I need, lament to a friend even, anything but walk right up and ask him for what I want.
Then, unfortuanltey, sometimes once I have asked, he doesn’t hear me because I’ve asked in such a way that he’s guaranteed not to. I’ll ask as he’s walking away to do something, or when he’s just home from a hard day of work and needs to unwind, inopportune times like that. This ensures I won’t be heard or get my needs met in the way that I want.
Life continues as a journey of progress not perfection. I keep taking lessons from my cat, who, quite regularly I embarrassingly admit, seems to be far smarter than I am. She comes to me when I’m seated and present, able to give her the attention she wants, reminding me that if I want attention or time with anyone else, I have to go to them when they’re present and sitting too.