My analog mentor. My cat.
My cat is an asshole. I mean I love him dearly, but he does tend to do some rather assholish things at times. He frequently becomes possessed by unseen demons at 4:30 in the morning. He ripsnorts through the house, and, if we accidentally leave the bedroom door open, he creates a special level of hell for us by bodyslamming our sleeping corpses and screaming like a banshee. His stomach is so large that it drags along the ground (which is kinda nice because he is functionally like a Swiffer and cleans the tile floors nicely for us). But despite his, err, size, he still dramatically and emphatically complains that he is hungry all day long. He eats eight or nine times per day, and no one would mistake this as a cat who has ever missed a meal. He occasionally misses the litter box. We bought a second to help him with his aim. He misses that one too.
Master sleeper
But despite all his faults, I do love him unconditionally. He is a great, loving companion and the sweetest friend to our daughter. But he has also become an unexpected mentor to me. My bloated, furry, orange Yoda.
Good sport
Roy doesn’t multitask. He lives in the moment as only animals are fully capable of. He also rarely uses technology unless you count the time he chewed right though my earphone wire. Animals are inherently analog, and we could all learn a lesson from their behavior. When Roy is plopped into a lap and purring loudly, I doubt he is thinking about feline stresses or relational problems he is having with his biological mother whom we’ve also recently adopted. When he is sitting at the ledge of the window chattering at birds flitting in the yard or squirrels scampering in the trees, he is fully present and involved in that one single-minded task. When he has his head buried in his food bowl, he thoroughly enjoys his food. Every. Single. Bite.
Like mama, like son
And yet I, myself, have trouble sitting at a table enjoying a delicious meal of locally made cochinita pibil tacos without peeking at my phone to see if there’s any social media updates or to check on the score of a game which really has no relevance in my life. Even if I’m watching an engaging episode of Landman, I still have my phone at arm's length - just in case. Just in case of what?! I’m not entirely sure.
How to lose feeling in your legs
And so, I have started to appreciate our lovable cat and the way he lives his life. I am getting better at watching him, studying him, and admiring him do whatever it is that he is doing. And I am starting to do that now without a phone in my hand. I am getting better at reading a book with Roy in my lap, cutting off the circulation to my feet, without my mind wandering. He is a gentle teacher - leading by example. I admire him, and he has become a constant reminder of how I wish to live my life. In the moment. Unplugged. Analog.
El rey Roy
