The Hidden Lives of Pets … and Their Human

It was evening, three nights ago, on the heels of a semi-demanding day.  I was feeling a little ragged, needing a reset.  As common remedy, I sat in meditation (that helped), did some stretching (helped some more), ate a banana (usually helps), a piece of dark chocolate (always excellent), then petted and marveled at the sleeping sanctity of the feline wonders I share this home with. 

That should’ve nailed it, and no small feat, as any human owned by cats would attest.  The sheer privilege allowed in stroking them – anytime – most certainly in their cloud of slumber with the answers to all of life’s questions.  (Or, at least any that truly matter.)  The act of petting and observing these professional nappers is in itself a meditation, and, in the peculiar offing of my mood that day (any day), I was envious.  Whatever are they dreaming?? – I wondered.  Could they be dreaming and purring at the same time?  What about those mega million lottery numbers? (noted metaphysical mood shift)   

I halted the affections to pour a cup of tea (for me; they’ve yet to acquire a taste for it).  My cup and I walked to the French doors, contemplating the calm of the garden beyond.   A green lizard skittered across the patio, posing for push-ups beside a large geranium.  We held that exchange for some minutes until he moved on with his business. Below me, on the glass, are the peppering dots of cat nose prints. Gazing back at the now twitching tails of the household leadership, more questions arose in my mental conveyor belt.  This mood I’m wrestling.. is it akin to the bird, or  lizard, these hunters can’t seem to reach – noses nubbing against the pane and “ack ack ack” noises clarifying its frustration?  These very important things, I wonder(ed).

Not ready for bed, or the usual satisfaction of book or music, I decided:  a spoon-fed dose of movie story time.

The cat royalty still lay curled together in the other room, probably harboring the antidote to this agitating edge inside my brain, along with those bird and lizard dreams.  To think otherwise would disqualify you from their selective inner circle and definitely the value of this blog post.  So, then, invest yourself for just a minute and see this out. 

In the squishy comfort of a mass of pillows, I tucked myself, my tea and my cerebral rumblings for Netflix vacation. 

Right off the menu landed this documentary gem.  I’d barely clicked to read its intro, still without sound, and he appeared.  Urie. Oh, Magical Omnipotent One,.. Urie, the cat.  And not the first time he has awed me with his antics.

He leapt onto the table top, parking himself beside the screen – like his shifty little (big!  I mean, big!) cat brain was totally in tune behind the facade of slumber just moments before.

There he held, motionless, staring directly at me – seeming more photoshopped than real but I swear it’s real – as the all-knowing pharoah narrator on his throne.  Behind him on the screen shown the movie title, its promo pic of a similarly orange-ish cat in a similarly red-ish collar.  And, the title? –  (in case you can’t read it) – The Hidden Lives of Pets.

Drop the mic.  I’m done here.