I was a dog person until a tabby followed me and three hunting dogs one cold evening. She instantly knew that my soul was understanding and compassionate for a brave and sickly cat.
She knew my soul would rest peacefully when I lay my head down to sleep, as she is there to prevent other animals from using our pillow, knowing I could count on her being there to cheer me on as we arise.
I am reminded that my soul is blessed even on the coldest winter night as the weary furnace unburdens its heat and the tabby lies under my quilt, warming my feet.
This cat humbles me with one look and a stroll around me when her kibble tray is empty or the current kibble is inferior to even my high standards.
And as she rolls about on the generous cat nip spread on the carpet, my heart is gladdened and lightened, reminding me that even simple things can bring pleasure.
And as she ages, and more slowly ascends her self-prescribed throne each day, I am grateful she called my soul to let her in.
