Moses lives a simple life. When hunger pangs stir within, he checks the cat dish on the back porch. If that is empty, he goes prowling for some hapless prey. When he is thirsty, he finds a puddle or a trickle to satisfy the demand. When he needs a bath, he diligently applies his built-in “washcloth.” When he becomes sleepy, a rug or a cardboard box or most any nook will serve as his bed. Moses is content.  

Moses does not worry about the future. He does not toss and turn in his sleep. He does not bite his nails, chew his lip, or develop shadows under red-rimmed eyes. Neither does Moses fret about the past. He does not cry over spilled milk, nor does he agonize over the mouse that got away. Moses is at peace.  

Moses is genuine. He does not try to be something he is not. He does not try to be Drover. He does not try to be the man. He is content to be a cat, just as God made him to be. He does not gaze at his reflection in a puddle, wishing his eyes were blue. Moses is satisfied.  

Moses is forgiving. He does not hold grudges. When Drover forces him to make an undignified escape up a tree, he waits patiently aloft until his antagonist loses interest. Before long, the two will be curled up side by side, sharing the rug for their afternoon nap. Moses is transparent.  

Moses enjoys an uncomplicated existence. And though we cannot recommend a cat’s life for humans, we might learn a lesson or two in forgiveness, contentment, trust, acceptance, and simplicity by observing his uncluttered daily agenda.  

When the early morning breaking,  
Slumber from my eyelids shaking,  
Comes the blessed thought with waking,  
I am in His keeping.  
—Mrs.  C. H. Morris 

From Paws on My Porch, by Gary Miller
© 2015 TGS International, PO Box 355, Berlin, Ohio 44610
Used by permission