Sometimes, I Wish I was a Cat

Sometimes, I wish I was a cat. To have nice little beds and pillows would be great along with the fancy canned food and someone to massage my head and rub my back (I’ll have someone for that next week). Then everything else is sleeping and maybe some running around to play with the many kitty toys (I’m still not sure about the laser pointer, though). I could sit in the sunbeam on the floor and purr when someone I like walked by. Cats don’t worry about anything nor do they care about politics or try to maintain their sanity upon waking up in the morning. They just be cats and do cat things: eat, sleep, shed, meow, purr, etc. When I really think about it, all they expect is food unless they’re mousers. Life would be simpler as a cat, perpetual Zen. But life isn’t simple and I’m not a cat. Oh, well, back to the grindstone.