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Catatonic church

I’m sitting here watching my cats fight one another. Not actually fight, like in a manner that would make Michael Vick blush with pride, but sissy slap at one another. Since both cats arrived declawed from the pound, this equals good, clean, safe fun for all involved. Except maybe the cats.

Having pets makes you realize that Pokemon games are just this side of electronic cockfighting. A generation of kids are growing up believing the best use for newly discovered species is to cram them in a cage and, at the appropriate time, release them to fight other rare creatures. This was the plot of one of the Beastmaster films, but hardly seems a valid life lesson.

Still, I’m not one to intervene into the cats’ squabbles. It’s when considering this I wonder if I’m a god? Not the God (no lightning strikes, please), but a god–to my cats at least. I’m a benevolent being that provides them with food, water, shelter, and can magically heal many of their ailments with my magic elixirs ($49.99 from my friendly neighborhood veterinarian). I often whisk them up from the ground and transport them out of harm’s way, and my voice bellows from the heavens both praising and chastising them.

Of course, to really be a god I would need to have worshipers, and I’m fairly sure that’s exactly what my cats are doing right now. One is sniffing around my foot while the other forces its way into my lap. I’d cuddle up in God’s lap, and I’m not entirely unsure that what I do each Sunday isn’t tickling His toes. Sure, the praise into groveling might not seem equal between my cats to me to God, but I’d argue that’s all perspective. For all we know we sound like a bunch of hairy beasts begging for mushy sustenance to the Almighty. Maybe when He drops a few apples onto that deserted island you find yourself shipwrecked on he also walks away holding one hand to His nose before throwing the empty package in the trash can. God or no god, I am not getting that left over cat food all over my hands.

Is there a point to this rambling? Sure, why not? I think we far too often presume to know the inner workings of the minds of creatures both greater and smaller than ourselves. This usually results in us forcing our own opinions, wants, and even needs upon their actions. That doesn’t sound very benevolent to me. That’s not the kind of god I want to be.