Elizabeth looks like me.

I was playing with William for quite a while tonight. I overestimated his energy. After a while he couldn't quite keep up with the birdie I was waving around. He just gave up, plopped down on his side, and panted there on the cool floor. Elizabeth said "Good." It was time for her to get all the attention.

So I petted Elizabeth for a long time. I petted her, not like someone who pets a cat while watching a tv show, but giving her my undivided attention. Probably nobody would really call Elizabeth a pretty cat. She's not ugly, but she is very ordinary. Her fur is that wild mix of browns and greys.

At one point she put her head up under my arm, hiding her face. I remembered the first time she did that. It was a few days after I got her from the animal shelter. She was going into labor. I remember lying there beside her on the floor and thinking it was amazing she trusted me enough to comfort her. I guess maybe animals have an instinctual awareness. Or maybe she was desperate and just hoping. Whatever the case, I was happy to be there for her. Happy to share the experience with her.

As it turns out I did spend many hours with her while she was in labor, but wasn't present for the actual birth of either of the three kittens. But while I was looking at her tonight I felt like I had been there in a way. I missed the "moments," but was there beforehand and for many nights afterwards taking care of her and the kittens as they struggled with the respiratory virus.

So tonight I'm wondering why it is that right before Elizabeth decided she was exhausted from being petted, I looked at her in the face and saw myself. I would have been startled, but I recognize that feeling. I have the same feeling when I look at my old dog Gabbi. And Elizabeth and Gabbi sure don't look anything alike! I love all of my pets, present and past, dearly. But there is a different feeling that comes from watching these two. It is comforting and peaceful. Maybe a way of learning to be peaceful and content with myself.

So as Elizabeth was nibbling my hand, letting me know she'd had enough petting for the night, I was thinking about how I probably need to spend more time with her. Not so much for her benefit . . . because I think she is perfectly content lounging in her royal suite, waiting for room service. But I think it is probably the most calming part of my day. It occurred to me that I've always had this idea that I should set aside specific time for meditation or relaxation. It never has happened. Seems like I could never settle . . . was always worried about what I was missing while thinking about my breath or whatever I was supposed to be focusing on. Always thinking I should spend any extra time problem solving and planning. Tonight I thought about how absolutely cool it would be if I set aside a certain hour for Elizabeth every night. I am willing to bet that it would be every bit as effective as any formal meditation practice.

I'm glad Elizabeth looks like me.