The Present is a Gift

Do you ever look at someone and just wonder what makes them tick?  Or do you consider what you know about their history and wonder how it doesn’t seem to impact them?

I find it interesting how we all respond to situations differently – the current COVID-19 situation is a clear example, where some huddle terrified in their homes with no contact and lots of toilet paper, and others take no heed whatsoever and act as though nothing has change.  Of course, most people are somewhere between these two extremes.

Our cat Sky, too, is an example of surprising ambivalence.  Sky came to us with Roxy, who you may remember from The Invisible Cat and Trust: A Relationship Built on Time, Consistency, and Boundaries in early 2017.  While he arrived in a spherical state (seriously, he was round), Sky was friendly and handle-able.

Sky’s life with us began sharing some of Roxy’s terrors – brooms and towels – but like her, he’s gotten over these and hasn’t run terrified from either in quite a while.  He was, however, and still is, possessed of an odd quirk – at least, I find it so.  When you go to pet Sky’s head, he ducks.  I’ve never had a cat do this before.  It’s not that he doesn’t want the pets.  He’s looking up at you with loving green eyes and purring loudly.  He doesn’t seem in pain when you pet his head and permits this, still purring.  But in over three years, he still ducks.

As a naturally curious (nosy) person, I can’t help but wonder why.  While I can work out that Sky and Roxy were probably ‘herded’ with brooms and towels, I can’t work out the head – particularly since he’s the only one who has this idiosyncrasy.  Was he previously disciplined via a hard rap between the ears?

I’ll never know, as he can’t tell me.  But whatever his past, it hasn’t stopped him.  From the first moment I met Sky (before his arrival in our home), he was most willing to be petted, picked up, and held, thanking me with loud purrs which could be heard from another room.  He’s still this enthusiastic, though he also still seldom seeks out attention.

Sky’s tactic is to sit in his chair – black, to contrast with his mostly white fur – and stare at you longingly until you come and pet him.  He’ll occasionally lie on our chests in bed, vibrating our entire bodies (and bed) with his strong purr and sometimes drooling (we could pass on that part).  It works for him, though.  He’s happy to be the strong silent type who hangs out in his chair or on the corner of the bed, and runs quickly to his dish at breakfast and dinner.  He’s no longer spherical due to a major diet and the fact that we don’t typically manage cats with food.

I find his lesson for me is an interesting but very applicable one.  He doesn’t – for the most part – let the past define him.  He takes life where it is today and enjoys what it has to offer him.  He doesn’t think about tomorrow.  He accepts today – the present – for the gift that it is.  

Some days, I need this reminder.  Whatever my past, allowing it to define me is my choice.  I can choose otherwise, and embrace today for what it has to offer me.  Where I am, that’s looking like a brilliant warm and sunny afternoon where I hope to get some time to work on my tan a little more!