Sometimes the smallest creatures teach the largest lessons
Some of you may remember when I adopted my cat, Nyx, this past June. Even then, I was already obsessed with her. Now, I’m whatever the next step up from “obsessed” is. I want to be near her all the time. That works out well because she also wants to be near me. I think she’s as in love with me as I am with her.
When I wake up in the morning, I spend extra time in bed just petting Nyx. The repetitive motion, combined with her purring, is like a spell. No matter what I need to do that day, I can’t get up without stroking her soft tortoiseshell coat. She wedges her tiny body against mine, getting as close as possible without merging us into one being. I can see how cats have been associated with magic over the years.
Nyx follows me onto the porch when I go out to feed the turtle or smoke a cigar. She pushes the bathroom door open every time I go in. When she can’t get it open, she cries. At night, when I take her litter out to the bin, she whines at the door until I return. She follows me like a shadow, one I wouldn’t dream of banishing. Her small mews and chirps have become the soundtrack to my days.
I never thought of myself as a cat person. I never thought of myself as a fish person either, yet I remain enthralled by my family of goldfish. I didn’t think of myself as an insect person, but I could watch my backyard bees and butterflies for hours. I suppose I’m a bird person as well, as I watch the young chicks bathe in the birdbath out back. The pair of mourning doves who hatched them forage on the ground below. For years, I was a dog person, but I see now that’s just another box I tried to fit into. I am merely a person, taking in all the life around me. I wonder what would happen if we all stopped trying to cram ourselves into too-small boxes of identity and self. What could occur if we simply existed? What might we learn if we opened ourselves to the world?
Until next time,
P.S. I include the text below in every letter, so you’d be forgiven for ignoring it. But I’m making an extra plea now. It makes me feel a bit icky, so blatantly requesting your hard-earned money. But I am, as I said, merely a person, and people require money to survive. If you take anything from these letters I send, perhaps you’ll give a bit back.
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We need to save all the insects, not just the bees. Our world depends on them.
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