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Kitty Cat's New Year

Updated: Aug 8, 2022

tuxedo cat with black spot under his nose on baby blue bed sheet with mirrored sconce and tapestry in background
Photo Cred: elyse hughes

I live with this kitty cat named Jaxy Panda Oreo Cookie Baby Boy. Jaxy Panda for short. Every morning, if I’m not awake to open the blinds by the time the sun pours through the windows, he orchestrates a chorus of meows to get my ass UP. When he wants to eat, he makes it known with a beeline to his bowl and a BIG vocal announcement. All day, every day, he lets me know what he wants, and I give it to him 97% of the time. He bills me the 3% in small necessities buried under immoveable kitchen appliances like the stove.

Before Jaxy Panda, there was Vegas SweetPea Sophie. Before her, there was Kaya Jade.

All of these kitties, in no uncertain terms, let me know exactly what they wanted.

There was no shame in the asking. No holding back. No – “you don’t have to do that” or “when you have a minute” or “only if that works for you.”

As I write this, Jaxy Panda is making known that he will fuck some shit up if I don’t pull out the laser light ASAP.

And that brings me to the New Year. All these expectations and markers that inevitably arise with fixed attention on a certain amount of time passed. The judgments we pile on ourselves based on our behaviors, habits, goals—the things we have, or are yet to experience. It’s all baloney. These false pressures and flimsy identifications of Self.

Jaxy Panda is adamant about napping in the sun every AM. I often snooze next to him after meditation. I wake up guilty that I fell asleep. He just wakes up.

Why fucking sweat it?

We find ourselves in this beautiful challenge to ask for what we want in life. And actually accept the having of it.

I so often want to revisit my failures, and clog the channels of all the good that’s coming to me, inevitably. I feel an urge to explain and prove. “I haven’t lost enough weight.” “I need to be more successful before I fill-in-the-blank.” “I drank a bottle of wine last Tuesday.” So I guess that makes me . . . what?

What does that matter? Who fucking cares?

Why am I keeping such relentless score of all my supposed setbacks when life dances on with the nonchalant brilliance of kitty cats to guide my path . . . one I hope is leading to more self-appreciation. Less of this “have to achieve X to deserve Y” BULLSHIT.

New Year. New You. Fuck That. There’s nothing to apologize for, nothing to blame. Only to gain. If we just let ourselves experience the good that’s already here and we’re simply not letting in because of the million and seven reasons we use to talk ourselves out of Having Joy.

What say you?

signing off ~e


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