03 January 2008

Propheteering Pussycat

So, I think my cat thinks he's Gautama Buddha.

No, hear me out!

First, my cat is fat. Now, I know what you're thinking... "But, Ashley, isn't there an ongoing weight problem amongst domesticated felines in the US, due to television, video games and junk food? Especially in cities like Houston?"

The answer is a resounding "Idunno." But that's not the point. This guy eats two tablespoons a day of diet cat food and still can't lose weight. Now, I know that not all Buddha images are tubby, but, really, his brain is only like the size of a grape.

Anyway... OK, so he's fat. Also, he spends a lot of time in meditation. Not like regular, catlike meditation, which generally consists of naps, but actual meditation where he stares at a fixed spot for like hours. It's almost spooky.

He won't take food from my hand, which kinda makes sense, in a misundertanding Buddhism sorta way. He won't eat people food at all. In fact, he refuses dog food, when we run out of cat food, choosing, instead, to fast.

He's a Siamese, which means that his breed started in Thailand (before it was called Thailand). For those of you who haven't been to the really cool parts of Asia, Thailand is the second most Buddhist place in the world. And because he's Thai, I gave him a Thai name. His actual name is the Thai phrase for "good luck". I call him "Lucky". Or, occasonally, "You Little Bastard!!!" But mostly, "Lucky".

So, even though I don't think he's the Buddha (I know enlightenment when I see it, and when I look at him, I don't see it), he definitely thinks so. So, just to be safe, every night, I rub his tummy for good luck.

Sometimes he bites me for it. Bastard.

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