Indecision

                Between the invigorating cool of autumn and the late summer abundance of large insects to pounce on (grasshoppers, cicadas, and butterflies), the clowder refuses to come inside…one last hurrah before winter’s long kitty nap.  This brings me to today’s topic—my role as cat doorman.

                There must be a reason cats have an instinct for indecision…but for the life of me, I don’t understand it.  One cat will, if it gets its wish, go in and out the back door an average of fourteen times per hour.  Multiply that by five cats and it becomes clear why I don’t always find enough time in the day.

Finny and Toby watching squirrels

                Is it that they can’t decide what they want?  Inside versus outside—both are good so try to have it all?  Maybe it’s a little like Mom Guilt—I really want to be outside but I should probably keep an eye on my indoor territory in case something happens.   Perhaps it’s most like Facebook Syndrome—I must keep logging in to see if there’s a new post.

Once again I find my behavior isn’t so far removed from theirs.  There may be a better way, though.  Maybe, it would be more satisfying to live like our gray cat, Finnegan.  He dashes outside at first light and has every intention of spending the day there.  At night he comes in and curls up on my knees and nothing can move him from his spot.  No half-hearted distractions divide his attention.  He lives in the moment and sucks the marrow out of every experience.  He gets to the worth at the core instead of skimming the outer layer.  There might be something to that…