I have two cats. Alli, my little tuxedo, is an adventure cat. Every morning, she yells at me to feed her, and then yells at me to open the door so she can go outside and roam. Most days, I leave my door open for some air, and also to give Larry, my old orange boy, a chance to go outside. But he never does. Instead, he flops down on the couch and snoozes the day away. Sometimes, I worry about him. Why doesn't he go outside? Is he depressed? How can I get him to exercise more? Silly cat, surely the world is full of wonderful things, why don't you go out to explore?
As much as I worry about his happiness, I know that he only does what he prefers. If he needs food, he comes to me to ask. If I brush him too much, he'll swipe at me. If he wants to go outside, he'll take a jaunt in the yard. He's a good boy, my Larry, and at the end of the day when I lie down on the couch, he'll jump up next to me and snuggle. If he could talk, I'm sure he'd think the same of me. Silly human, surely the world is full of wonderful things, why don't you go out to explore?
The days are innumerable and indistinguishable from one another. This is the life of a cat, who has no weekend or workday. This is the life I live now too, and I look to Larry to understand how to cope. Perhaps I prefer it, like he does, but there's still a sense of restlessness. I tolerate myself the most when I keep busy, working diligently and staying on top of my chores and social life. And yet, if life is an experience of learning myself, this self, with nothing to do all day and no real pressures of survival is a version of myself I must learn to love and be okay with as well. I don't know if Larry is depressed or has a capacity for joy. But I do know that he eats when he is hungry, drinks water when he feels inclined to, moves from sun to shade to sun as is comfortable, and deliberately seeks to be near me. Perhaps I, too, can learn to listen to my body, eat what I please, drink when I thirst, place myself in invigorating environments, and be close to the people who want me. This is the life of an indoor cat, and I could learn to love myself in it as much as I love Larry. ◊