Small Things & Curing Unhappiness

[Listen to an audio version of this blog here.]

Yesterday, I bought a tiny cactus from Trader Joe’s. It wasn’t just any tiny cactus though. It was a tiny cactus in a tiny pot in a tiny, orange, cat-shaped pot holder. My friend bought one the day before and sent me a picture. “I can get you one tomorrow,” she wrote. And that’s why we’re friends. She knows that I adore my own cat, to a startling degree. My love for my cat is how I measure every other love in my life. I love him almost as much as I love Chub Chub, I think to myself as I watch my beloved boyfriend sauté an organic chicken breast over medium-low heat, beads of sweat pouring down his very pretty face.

It isn’t polite to talk about, but I can understand why people are more upset by their pets passing away than by the death of their beloved great aunt, for example. Pets are with us every day. They’ve seen us at our ugliest, saddest, and most disgusting, but they don’t care. Pets provide an unconditional love that is unmatched by any human, alongside a comfort that can only be provided by a being that does not speak. I’ve cried into my cats’ fur many times, and never once has he judged me for dating another asshole, or for failing miserably at a race, or for not closing a deal at work. My cat just purrs and rubs his tiny tawny head into my flaccid breast and breathes his rotten fish breath directly…