Cats feign affection when it suits them—that is, when affecting affection might lead to satisfying their selfish desires. Feline affection is a strategy, not a genuine emotion. Dogs, on the other hand, tend to fall in love quickly and completely. Demonstrations of canine affection reveal a remarkable emotional scope and breadth. Compared to wading in the shallows of a cat’s tolerance, exploring the vast depths of a dog’s true love is like darkness versus light. The feline attribute that saves cats from being discarded like the miserable, uncaring, self-absorbed beasts they are is this: their uncanny genetic predisposition to using a litter box, with no training. If dogs required no “house-training” nor daily walks, every vagrant cat (they’re all inherently vagrants) now living in undeserved comfort would be replaced by a devoted and loving dog. Cats—aloof and haughty—hold their human subjects in disdain. Dogs—frenzied in their loyalty—adore their human friends and families, holding them in the highest regard. And, with apologies to Shakespeare:
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man (or dog) ever loved
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I have become quite selective in my out-of-house experiences of late. Warnings given to me to avoid over-exposure to crowds of people limit my ventures “out” of late. I have gone out to eat lunch twice (or more times?) in recent days, but the places were not crowded, so I have felt reasonably safe from crowd-borne diseases. But learning about people in my extended social circle who have gotten COVID-19 or other unpleasant afflictions keeps me away from many places I might otherwise go. To church this morning, for example. I hope my absence is not interpreted to be an intentional slight to anyone; it’s okay, though, if people simply consider my behavior evidence that I am sinking into hypochondriacal derangement.
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The few days preceding a full-scale chemo treatment are not reliably “good” days, but they tend to be better than the several days…or week, plus…after. If the interruptions to my routine were limited to chemo, they would be more tolerable. But there’s always a return for a post-treatment injection and at least one return the week (and, sometimes, two) after. And the blood draws. And the other tests, like PET-scans, CT scans, MRIs, etc. I had an MRI of my brain recently; it was all good. I’m to be scheduled for an MRI of my back and spine and more sometime soon. It is to be done to determine whether bone or joint issues might be responsible for some pain I’ve experienced. I do not look forward to a full-on MRI; the last one I had, years ago, was something of a nightmare. The MRI is not so bad, but my back on a hard steel table for a long period causes pain far worse than the pain the MRI might help identify. I rather hope the schedule is tight and I cannot get another MRI for weeks. Or months. Wishful thinking.
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As long as poverty, injustice and gross inequality persist in our world, none of us can truly rest.
~ Nelson Mandela ~
