Would I want to be my cat?

Every morning, when I leave for work, my cat (Ferdinand) watches me sadly as I close the door and I think, "Would I rather trade places?" Ferdinand has a pretty good life. He sleeps all day, watches birds, lays around on the couch, and is nimble enough to leap anywhere he wants. He doesn't worry about the rent or if he'll go hungry. He doesn't agonize over life-changing decisions or get aggravated about the state of our economy. He is carefree. Would I give up my husband, my freedom, my career, my life to live so stress free?

Then again he doesn't have a girlfriend. He has never laughed at a joke or read a good book. He'll never leave my apartment and never see Ireland. On a hot day, he cannot put on the AC nor tell me he does not like the color of new rug or if he hates my perfume. In short, he has to accept whatever we provide for him.

Perhaps that's a good lesson. Maybe I should accept what I am given and try harder to make due in a less-than-perfect situation. He doesn't get mad if I don't pet him long enough; he is grateful for however long I do.

Sure he's a cat, so he's a little persnickety and certainly can hold a grudge longer than a dog. But he always forgives us and he is always happy when we come home. How many times can I say I ran to the door when my husband came home?

Ferdinand has a pretty good life but mine is certainly better. I think I could learn a few things from him nonetheless.