Being fifty-something, I know we can learn a lot from the animal world.
Especially from our domesticated friends, like our Jack Sparrow (pirate cat and bon vivant).
Jack’s not the most worldly of cats. He didn’t venture outside for the first seven years of his life (not unless you count that time he fell out the bathroom window).
It doesn’t take much to put him off his game.
Perhaps it’s our new French doors.
Perhaps it’s the particular height of the sun in the sky at this time of year.
Perhaps it’s Jack having a midlife crisis of some sort.
Jack’s newest midlife dilemma goes like this:
He approaches the back door, meowing to be allowed in.
As I swing the door open, it creates light reflections on the decking.
Jack is (at once) fascinated and fearful of the reflections. They are his “predators of the wild” to be stalked and possessed. He chases them obsessively around the deck before getting spooked and skittering down the stairs and into the yard.
I close the door.
A few minutes later, Jack returns to the door, meowing to be allowed back in.
We go through the exact same process again.
There it is … the metaphorical circle of life.
If I were Doctor Dolittle I would tell Jack straight (damn straight): “Chasing shiny objects puts you off your main game. You need to focus on what you want. Take the opportunities (like the open door) when they appear. Key take-away: focus.”
If I were Doctor Dolittle, I’d deliver that advice in a lilty-show-tune-kind-of-way.
But I’m not. So I yell at Jack in my cranky-old-woman voice: “Feck off then you moggy muppet. I am not opening the door for you again. Ever!”
And thus the circle of life is broken.
(Until next time.)