While slipping in and out of consciousness during a recent nap, it occurred to me that my life really doesn't have much purpose. I spend a large portion of my day napping, with an occasional burst of energy motivating me to saunter to another room to find a cozy place for my next nap. When I was a kitten, I certainly envisioned a different life when I grew up.
Like many young cats, a lot of different things appealed to me. At one time I thought that I wanted to be a carpenter. The smell of freshly cut wood had a definite appeal, and the idea of transforming a mental image into a utilitarian product seemed rather romantic. But the absence of an opposable thumb made it difficult to hold a hammer or use power tools.
I next considered repairing computer printers. Spending a lot of time in my human companion's home office, I soon realized that printers have a tendency to get paper jams, particularly if I am sticking my paws into them while they are trying to operate. But after doing a little research, I discovered that printers are so darn inexpensive that repairing them seldom makes sense.
I tried a business venture with my brother and sister, but the recession had a huge impact on the business and we had to close it. (If you know anyone who needs 456 cases of Tuna and Egg or 129 gallons of mistinted paint, let us know. We can make a deal.)
I am starting to conclude that I cannot deny my nature. I am a cat, and I will never be anything else. While it pains me to make such an admission, it would be irrational to deny the facts. As Aristotle noted, a thing is what it is--A is A. I can guarantee that I would not do well as a carpenter, a printer repair technician, or a business owner, no matter how hard I try.
And so I will strive to be the best that I can be. I will be the bestest cat that ever was. Which reminds me, it's time for a nap.