(our favourite tom, from when he was still young and less fat)
There's something to be learnt from the unwavering self absorption of a cat. Cats love themselves. That may as well be the truest truth of all time. They need no help cleaning, no petting, no sticks or balls thrown their way. Even though a bored cat may often hunt a variety of tiny objects with mind-boggling dedication, all it really needs from you is food and shelter. And if you refuse to provide that, all self-respecting cats know just the devious means to acquire it on their own. You are not all that important to cats, in fact, they hardly pay you any notice. That's the thing about them, let them inside or throw them out the door, they exude cool nonchalance and self-sufficiency.
In this aspect, I am the complete opposite of a cat. I'm a dog. I am apologetic, silly and when it comes to people I know well, I'm greedy for validation. I can't for the life of me learn to be independent. I'm the lab that slouches on the doormat with sad eyes, head on paw, till someone reaches home and gives its life a happy purpose. I'm often the dog that needs to be taken outside for a walk, the goofball that obediently performs circus-like handshakes and twirls at the whims of mere humans.
I should learn a lesson from the cat that slinks out of the window the moment the house is empty. That brings home its own dinner of dead mice and pigeons. The cat who climbs trees knowing well that it may get stuck, and not giving a damn, because of course its silly human will devise a way to fetch it down. A well-fed pet cat who steals and fights on the streets for the heck of it enjoys life like few creatures. Dogs are cute and loyal and all, but I want to be a cat. Because, at the end of the day, one feisty hiss from the black street-cat is all it takes to alarm a pampered pedigree.