Why Happiness and Joy Reside in the Quietude of Life

I’m allergic to cats. They make me sneeze and wheeze. The problem is something called Fel d 1, which is a glycoprotein produced by salivary and sebaceous glands in cats.

When my wife Nicole and I first met and began dating, I was introduced to her loyal cat. His name was Einstein, and she raised him from a kitten. The two of them were a package deal.

Einstein

I had an ex-wife and a young son. All Nicole had was a cat. She used to joke that I came to the relationship with baggage, whereas she only had carry-on.

I fell in love with Nicole, and despite a few visits to my allergist, I grew to love Einstein, too. We enjoyed Einstein for many years before old age and illness claimed our purring friend.

The loss was hard on Nicole. She and Einstein had been through a lot together. She swore off getting another cat since she could never replace the special bond she had with Einstein.

There was a palpable absence in the house. We missed his little chatter and the way his spirit seemed to bring warmth to any room.

I love cats because I enjoy my home; and little by little, they become its visible soul. -Jean Cocteau

I loved Einstein, but the selfish side of me wouldn’t miss the sneezing and allergy medications. Before long I was breathing easier, and life marched forward.

Mine had me trained in two days

In 2016, I retired early from my law enforcement career to pursue writing and artwork full-time. We moved from California to Nevada, since my son chose the University of Nevada, Las Vegas to pursue his computer science degree.

A few years passed. We enjoyed the company of our two dogs but came to realize that we missed the zen-like presence of a cat in our home. Call me a glutton for punishment.

We tried several times to find a rescue cat who would tolerate our dogs. I made several visits to the SPCA. I brought one cat home but she was scared to death of our dogs, hid under our bed, and tended to bite.

Nicole loved the size and beauty of Maine Coon cats and found a breeder who had an adorable grey kitten available. It had to be a grey kitten since Einstein was grey in color.

Before long, we were the proud companions of a Maine Coon kitten. I say “companions” because you don’t own a cat, the cat owns you.

We named our new kitten “Skye” and wasted no time adding scratch bars and cat towers for Skye to play on. He had his own toy box filled with bells, balls, and assorted toy mice.

It wasn’t long before Skye was running the show. He enjoyed tormenting the dogs, batting them in their muzzles, and playing with their tails.

I had been told that the training procedure with cats was difficult. It’s not. Mine had me trained in two days.-Bill Dana

Skye had me trained to pour him a spoonful of fresh, heavy cream every morning. And sometimes in the evenings, too.

You’ll miss the scenery

My law enforcement career was demanding, and I was away from home a lot. Especially the last ten years of my career, when I was chief of police. Most of my interaction with Einstein was in the evenings, and a little bit on the weekends.

It was different with Skye. Working from home every day in my studio office, Skye became my constant companion. He liked to sit or nap on my desk. Sometimes he’d play with the typewriter keys, or knock my fountain pen on the floor.

I began to think of him as my editor and creative confidante. I had conversations with Skye. He often chattered back. But mostly he’d give me a steady, knowing gaze.

Skye, my editor, and zen instructor

As I labored over articles, artwork, and self-imposed deadlines, Skye would look up at me with such inner peace. His sweet eyes seemed to be saying:

Why are you so ambitious? Why don’t you slow down? You might reach your destination faster, but you’ll miss the scenery. The small moments. The splendid quietude of being present in the moment. Here, watch me. I’ll show you.

And then he would curl up in a ball and fall asleep.

Expressions of love

Nicole used to joke that Skye became my cat because we spent so much time together. But the truth is, I spoiled the hell out of that cat. So he knew I was an easy mark.

I bought Skye the best, heavy cream I could find. I carried him around in the backyard, so he could sight-see. I’d take breaks to play with him.

But it was Nicole who did the hard work of grooming Skye. His long hair was prone to matting, and his nails needed to be clipped.

Skye would mildly protest these grooming sessions, but soon he was purring in Nicole’s arms. They often enjoyed the early mornings together.

I have felt cats rubbing their faces against mine and touching my cheek with claws carefully sheathed. These things, to me, are expressions of love. -James Herriot

Skye was not really a lap cat, but he sometimes melted into Nicole’s lap. Once, he even gently caressed Nicole’s face. I recorded the touching moment on my iPhone.

Nothing to get excited about

Skye knew how to live. He took luxurious naps. He played with the dogs. He alerted us when he wanted his dinner. He waited for Nicole to finish her popsicle so he could play with the wooden stick.

Skye loved to bang on our bedroom door and almost learned how to open the handle. I nick-named Skye “Kitty Kitty Bang Bang.”

Having a bunch of cats around is good. If you’re feeling bad, you just look at the cats, you’ll feel better because they know that everything is just as it is. There’s nothing to get excited about. They just know. They’re saviours.-Charles Bukowski

Skye loved to watch birds on his special mat in the “catio.” He seemed to be reminding me that there’s more to life than ambition and working. One must smell the roses, and make time for nature.

Skye birdwatching

The most precious thing there is

Skye came to us with a strange little cough, and during a vet visit, it was discovered that his heart was a bit enlarged. On those rare occasions that he ran through the house, he wheezed a little.

Skye seemed to prefer relaxation, staring out the windows, and deep thought over-exercise.

Skye’s idea of a workout

The biggest lesson I learned from Skye is that happiness and joy reside in the quietude of life. Those easy evenings with family on the couch. The silent mornings on the patio, sipping coffee and watching the hummingbirds and verdins. Or feeling the sunshine on our face in the garden.

It’s when we stop aspiring, striving, worrying, and competing that we begin to slow down and settle into the present. Into the divine comfort of the moment.

Time isn’t precious at all, because it is an illusion. What you perceive as precious is not time but the one point that is out of time: the Now. That is precious indeed. The more you are focused on time — past and future — the more you miss the Now, the most precious thing there is. ― Eckhart Tolle, The Power of Now: A Guide to Spiritual Enlightenment

The other thing that Skye taught me was to be grateful. To appreciate our health, family, comforts, and all that we have. His little soul was utterly true and uncomplicated. No pretense, just love of life, family, and the simplicity of daily living.

I have lived with several Zen masters — all of them cats. ― Eckhart Tolle, The Power of Now: A Guide to Spiritual Enlightenment

I think Einstein had the same lessons for me, but back then I was immersed in my professional work and too self-consumed to listen. Too busy being ambitious.

Another day at the office with Skye

Maybe Einstein used some kind of divine clairvoyance to conspire with Skye and teach me to slow down, live in the present more, and stop endlessly racing with my creative ambitions.

Because it can all be over in an instant.

What dies inside us

On a recent Monday evening, Skye jumped on the kitchen counter, sauntered over, and gently head-butted me. His way of requesting a spoonful of heavy cream, which I promptly accommodated. Satisfied, he chirped his familiar trill and wandered off.

Later, my son urgently called us from his room. “It’s Skye,” he yelled, “he’s not moving!”

Nicole and I raced into the bedroom to find Skye lying on the floor, unresponsive, his eyes open and fixed. Nicole listened and could hear a faint heartbeat. We scooped him up and raced to the veterinarian’s office.

Maine Coon’s are known to have cardiac issues. Sometimes, their enlarged hearts simply stop, and when they do, they break our hearts.

The veterinarian was unable to do anything. After only one amazing year of joyful companionship, Skye slipped away.

I have enjoyed and lost other animals in my life, but none have left such a profound sense of loss. Skye was very special to me.

Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live. -Norman Cousins

I see and hear Skye’s ghost all the time. His paw poking under the bathroom door. A faint meow from the washroom. A feline shadow disappearing under the furniture.

It’s remarkable how much Skye’s sweet little soul touched our hearts, and I don’t believe I’ll ever get over his loss.

But I’m also deeply grateful. Grateful that we had such a joyful, loving year with our furry Zen master. Grateful to find happiness and joy in the quietude of life. Grateful to be reminded that family and love are what matter most.

For such a little soul, Skye, you taught us a great deal. We miss you terribly, but we are grateful you came into our lives and we will love you in this life and the next.

Rest in peace, Kitty Kitty Bang Bang. Rest in peace.

Before you go

I’m John P. Weiss, an artist and writer. To get my latest writing, artwork, and photography, join my free Saturday Newsletter here.

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This post was previously published on Medium.

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Photo credit: John P. Weiss

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