Do Animals Have Souls?

What a question! Of course, they have souls. Just look into your horse’s, your cat’s, your dog’s eyes.

I know when I look into my cat’s eyes I see a soul looking back at me. Sometimes her soul is saying, “I love you. I love you a lot.” Sometimes she is saying, “What the hell do you want?” And at other times, “Man, that was a good rat. Yum.” Or sometimes, “What a great day. Enjoy, just enjoy.” Then she goes off and runs or jumps into the bird bath just for a drink of water and she enjoys her complete catness.

I am sure that if you looked into a horse’s eyes you might see those eyes saying, “Gee, I love to run. There is nothing quite like it.” Or “Man, you need to lose some weight. Everytime you ride me, my back hurts for a week.”

Or a dog’s soul saying to his master, “You may be an s.o.b., but you’re my s.o.b.” They love us unconditionally, never holding back. I remember seeing a movie called “Hachi: A Dog’s Tale”. Hachi’s master had died, yet Hachi waited for years for his master to return on the evening train. They were friends, and the dog loved his friend more than anything.

So you can’t tell me that if there’s a life after death that there won’t be animals there. I am not going to believe that. Because a life after death without my cat ain’t any kind of life at all. So there. That answers that question. So on to the next one. Do people have souls?

Maybe. Then again maybe not. At least for some.

Cat-ness

Crazy little cat
Crazy little cat
All cat with your cat-ness

You sleep when you sleep
You purr when you purr
You eat when you eat
You is and always were

Crazy little cat
Crazy little cat
All cat with your cat-ness

A meow is a meow
A tail is a tail
Cat talk and cat speak,
“I’m really very well.”

Crazy little cat
Crazy little cat
All cat with your cat-ness

A tongue is a tongue
To use for cleaning
Then you’re lying down
For some cat dreaming

Crazy little cat
Crazy little cat
All cat with your cat-ness

The sun is a friend
Everyday, everyday
Its light a lullaby
Everything’s okay

Crazy little cat
Crazy little cat
All cat with your cat-ness

The moon comes out
You’re ready to play
To jump and you run
And to have your say.

Crazy little cat
Crazy little cat
All cat with your cat-ness

The Call of the Meows

There used to be a song that went: “Sugar in the morning, sugar in the evening, sugar at super time.”  Well, at my house, it’s meow in the morning, meow in the evening, meow at suppertime.

My cat, Little Bear, turned four recently, and she has become a master meow-ologist. She has turned the call of the meows into an art form. There’s an I’m-hungry meow. A meow for attention. An I-want-out meow. And a meow just for the heck of meowing. It’s her way of saying, “I’m Special with a capital S and you’d better believe it.” Her meow-jo is a wonder to behold.

Recently she’s gotten lazy. She’s collected all these meows and recorded them and downloaded them onto my computer, then set an alarm for each meow to go off at the appropriate time. She knows she’s the queen of meow-o-thons; queens don’t make en effort. It would be beneath her.

Now I’m not complaining. When she jumps on my bed in the morning and licks my face, I can’t have a better alarm clock. When I come home at night and she lets me rub her tummy, it’s the best. When she jumps up on my lap and purrs her finest purr, she’s made my day.

After four years, Little Bear and I have become so acclimated to each other we’ve started to taking on a bit of each other’s behavior. When I go to a restaurant, I’ve taken to meowing my order instead of ordering in English. Last weekend I was over at some friends. I dozed off. When they woke me, they said I had been purring. And when I get home from work, Little Bear has been rubbing my tummy. And everybody says that I am beginning to look like her. Can you imagine that?

However there is one thing I Will Not Do. I absolutely refuse to use her litter box. Especially when she won’t clean it.

To my satisfaction.

Near 500 words: Parrot Speaks

When Ada and Ty returned from their honeymoon, Ada introduced her new husband to her parrot. He was gray with red trimming.

“His name is Parrot,” she said. “He was my dad’s before he died.”

Ty had always wanted a dog or a cat, but he’d never imagined a bird. Ty, being in love with his new wife, decided a bird might not be a bad thing.

When Ty came home from his jewelry business the next night, he noticed Parrot in his cage over in the corner. The bird never tweeted or sang or talked. Not one word out of him. He just sat in that cage, watching. Ty wasn’t sure he liked it, but he didn’t want to say anything. Ada loved the bird, almost giving Parrot as much attention as she gave Ty.

Then late one night Ty woke up to a sound coming from the living room. He pulled himself out of bed and slipped into the living room. Across the room, Parrot muttered, “Got to have dinner ready for Ty. Have to contact Sara. Make an appointment for the hairdresser.”

Ty slipped back into bed beside Ada.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“Yeah. It’s the bird. Sounds like he’s repeating something you said. First time I’ve heard a peep from him.”

“Oh, that’s normal. He talks in his sleep.”

Ty laughed. “What? He can’t talk when he’s awake. When he’s asleep–”

“That’s about it. Talks his head off when he’s sleeping.”

Over the next few weeks, Parrot talked every night. Things Ada said. Things Ty said. Things friends said when they came over.

One Saturday night Bob and Helen Hardy, two friends of Ty’s, were over for penny ante poker.  After the couple left, Ada went off to bed. Ty wanted to finish a book he was reading. Dozing off, he was wakened by Parrot.

“Oh, Bob,” the bird said. “Not here. We’ll get caught. Come over Tuesday night. Ty will be late.”

“What?” Ty said. Was that what they were doing when Bob was helping Ada in the kitchen?

The bird repeated himself and added, “Now stop that.”

The next morning Ty didn’t say anything. Maybe he had imagined the whole thing or maybe Parrot was dreaming. He let the matter go. After all, Ada was as affectionate as a wife could be and Bob was his best friend.

The Sunday night and the Monday night bird talk was the usual. Meetings, friends, gossip.

It was late when Ty got home Tuesday. Ada was already in bed. Parrot dozed in his cage. Then the bird started, “Oh, Bob, that feels so good. Baby, you’re so good. Ty has never done anything like that to me.”

Ty’s body filled with anger. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He  went into the hall closet and pulled out a .45, then he stormed out the front door.

It was four o’clock in the morning when the detective rang the doorbell. It didn’t stop ringing until Ada pulled herself out of bed, wrapped a robe around her body and opened the door. “What do you want?” she asked, still half asleep.

“Ma’am, we have some news. About one this morning your husband shot and killed Bob Hardy. Before he died, Mr. Hardy managed to get off a shot. The shot was fatal.”

“Oh, my God,” Ada screamed. “Oh, my God.”

A female officer stepped past the detective. For the next while, she managed to calm Ada down.

Finally Ada said, “I’ll be all right. I’ll be all right.”

“Are you sure? I can stay if you need me to. Or do you want me to call a friend?.”

“No-no-no,” Ada assured her.

The officer left. Ada closed the door after her and looked over at Parrot. Wide awake, Parrot said, “Another one bites the dust.” Then he winked.

Ada asked, “When do you think we can sell the business?” Parrot stayed quiet.

Ada switched off the lights and went back to the bedroom. From her bed, she heard, “Three husbands down, but I’m not counting.”

This cat of mine

She is a curious thing, this cat of mine:
looking, seeing, chasing

She is a curious thing, this cat of mine:
running, jumping, playing

She is a curious thing, this cat of mine:
climbing, digging, dashing

She is a curious thing, this cat of mine:
wandering, exploring, adventuring

She is a curious thing, this cat of mine:
sneaking, disappearing, hiding

She is a curious thing, this cat of mine:
meowing, cajoling, crying

She is a curious thing, this cat of mine:
scratching, rubbing, sunning

She is a curious thing, this cat of mine:
bathing, eating, sleeping

She is a curious thing, this cat of mine.
And when she purrs, it is a fine fine thing.