There’s a patch of sunlight on the floor of our guestroom, and if the dog is nowhere to be found you can look there for him.
Soft carpet, warm rays, and he wishes you would sprawl out with him and bathe there.
He’s lazy and comfortable.
He’s a yorkie/cairn terrier and we’re all in love. We keep him around for entertainment mostly, but this morning I realized that he’s the only child in the house that will still cuddle me whenever I want.
I love him for that.
Our cat, on the other hand, has been relegated to the cold porch. He has a box and a blanket, food and water. Just the bare necessities.
He’s supposed to be useful, unlike the dog who is just supposed to be cute.
But he just watches us.
Through the window in the door and sometimes on the screen of the porch window, he watches us inside in all our warmth and comfort. His green eyes match envy and his meow?
Oh, his meow.
It bugs me.
It bugs me like the vampire cat on Hank the Cowdog. (What? You’ve gotta listen to Hank and Drover.)
And if you open the door he tries to wiggle in. He thinks he’s been put out by mistake, and surely every time the door opens it’s because we’ve realized our oversight.
Our feet scramble to barricade and he thinks that’s love, so he rubs and purrs while we push him out.
We go for walks and he just invites himself. The dog on the leash, the kids spread out for a quarter mile in front and behind me, and that cat. He follows us.
He only lasts about 10 minutes and then he disappears into the bushes and waits. He’s left behind and forgotten until we circle round and find him there again, waiting.
He’s like a stalker, following too close and annoying, always there. He rubs endlessly and joyously around our feet and we keep walking. He always finds his way back.
I don’t even remember his name.
The thing about the cat, though, is that he lives like he is loved.
He annoys me and he stinks and he’s neglected, yes.
But I’m the one inside, cozy and cared for and Jesus not only knows my name but every hair that ran down the drain this morning, and the cat is the one who lives like he’s loved.
Does Jesus remember my cat’s name?
If it matters to me, then I think He probably does.
Today, choose to live like you are loved. Because you are and nothing you do or don’t do will change that.