I had a roommate who used to call me a puppy, a beagle puppy. All gangly limbs and ears, ready to lick anyone or anything near me. Oh, and easily distracted by new smells.
Smells=Men in this instance.
And because I was a beagle puppy, I’d put my nose to the ground, latch onto the smell and follow it, not noticing the truck about to run me over. But this puppy self was also part cat. I had many lives. After getting run over, I’d pick myself up, find a new smell and head off again under the wheels of the next truck.
This roommate told me I should be a lone wolf, sexy and aloof. But I could never see that for me. I’m just not that loner-guy cool.
No, as I’ve aged (matured?), I’ve become more house cat. Affection and attention are great, when I want them. I still pretend to be a wild beast stalking imaginary prey, but really life is rather cushy.
But the most cat-like thing about myself right now is my desire to be alone. Not Greta Garbo reclusive alone, just self-sufficient me time alone.
I move through the world content with myself, but I still get to enjoy an occasional good scratch behind the ear.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a blank spot on the wall that needs staring at.
- Unfocused optimism is useless.
- Don’t let others decide who you are.