Bodhicattva

Not my cat, from Moose Country Garden.

Have you ever watched a cat for an extended period of time? My cat is a great bodhisattva. I just watched her lay here on the deck for 20 minutes, her one good eye half shut, gazing with kitty equanimity across my garden. Winged insect creatures alighting on roses, sunbeams stretching across the grass blades,  clouds humming along above fingertips of trees. And she just sits. Surveying her kingdom. Soaking in the tiny sliver of afternoon sun hitting the corner of the deck. Not disturbed by my oafish attempt to get her attention. Nor by the butterfly a leap away from dinner. Nor by the squabbling woodpecker crashing branches in the nearby tree. She slowly turns her head to look, curious, but not bothered.
Now kitty life is probably pretty easy. No boorish bosses, or drama filled personal relationships, no money problems or moral quandaries. But there is something about cats that gives them an air of acceptance. Yes, they have their moments of fear, frustration, violence, as does any being, but mostly they just sit. And watch. And play. And ask for scratches sometimes.
Of course, my Artemis did kill a rat the other day. I was so shocked. I have never seen her go for anything but the occasional bug, a rat snake, and to scatter the neighbor's chickens. Working with tigers daily at the zoo gives me great respect for the hunting abilities of my little tiger at home. She has a great power to be a great killer, and plenty of opportunities with the not so wary wildlife that live around my home. But she and the birds have come to an agreement it appears. They are flying to the bird feeder two feet away from her, seemingly undisturbed by her presence. Two taxa thrown together by human meddling, and they understand each other well. I have seen the same birds that do not fear her at all run from and even attack other cats from the neighborhood. But not Artemis. She has achieved inter-species respect. I can only hope to do the same.