Davecat

I was thinking about what it means to be authentic. My mind wandered over various people, places, things, and ideas. Then I was interrupted by a loud meow. Dave is heralding his entrance into my bedroom letting me know it is time to lean back in my chair so he can leap onto my lap. Within minuets he is asleep.

I may not know all the reasons he has for choosing his favorite napping spot to be my lap but I do know it is where he wants to be. I also know if I try to move him he would be quite upset with me, any attempt I make to reposition him somewhere else would only end with him jumping into my lap again, turning around in a circle, yawning, and going back to sleep.

Now let me tell you, I am not a cat person. I find them aloof and anti-social. I mean, I don't dislike them, but I never had the urge to seek one out. Dave was given to me when he was weeks old by a friend who found him in her car. Not able to take care of him she brought him to me, I said I would watch him for a couple of nights, and here I am three years later with a small furry mammal asleep on my lap as I type this.

My position on cats hasn't changed. But my position on Dave has. He spent his childhood living on my shoulder as the woods of New Hampshire arn't very friendly to small animals. We would go on hikes with my dog (who took it upon himself to be Dave's bodyguard and big brother) and we would barbecue outside with Dave attacking the leaves as the wind blew them around the field. At night he would sleep on my pillow between my neck and my shoulder, while I lose sleep, constantly afraid of rolling over on him.

I am someone who doesn't like cats but I love Dave, and that is simply because he is completely himself.