A nice Story from Chapter 3

CHAPTER III:
Learning From Animals


YOU ARE SO BEAUTIFUL…
By Mary Ellen Snively

When I look into Mo’s eyes, I know he has a secret he will never share with me.
“Geronimo” (Mo) was so named because, during his kittenhood, he was a fearless, ferocious fighter – just like his Native American namesake. He thought nothing of chasing full-grown dogs ten times his size. However, the dogs thought something of it. They usually left with their tails between their legs, nursing a nasty gash on their noses.
Mo soon took over my entire house as efficiently as he did the whole neighborhood. Friends would call and ask, “Did you know Mo’s been in my rec room watching television?”
Once, thinking a huge fern atop a table was a tree, he tried to climb it. I found him later purring contentedly under a pile of pebbles, mud, and greens. He was very pleased with himself for creating such a mess! Another of his favorite tricks was to lift the toilet seat and let it slam down --- always at 3am!
One of Mo’s favorite pastimes was bombarding the “other cat” in the plate glass patio. If he knew it was only his reflection, he never let on. He also loved to play baseball. I would pitch the ball up in the air, and he would run the length of the hallway, jump to the top of his scratching post, and bat the ball back to me. He never missed.
Even though Mo is never allowed outside without my close attention, I have never figured out how to break him of catching garden snakes. He parades around the yard, head held high with the snake dangling from his mouth. He looks like he’s sporting a handlebar moustache. He always releases the snake unharmed.
Mo has had to learn to live with a big dog named Tasha. Not to worry – when the dog holds him at bay at the top of the stairs, Mo simply dives between Tasha’s legs and hides under the curtain, leaving the dog dumbfounded.
Mo looks like he is fat and lazy, but he knows he’s a working cat. His job is to keep the house free of creepy critters. His second responsibility is to remind the dog who’s the boss. This he does quite simply about twice a year: Casually strolling past the unsuspecting pooch, Mo deals a quick, sound smack to his snout and just casually walks away.
Now Mo is over sixteen years old. He still gets attention by curling up in the sink when I’m brushing my teeth. He has become more cautious in his old age and knows people can’t see in the dark, so he always cries out twice to let me know where he is.
There came a day when the old warrior decided, “I will fight no more.” Now he hides under the hemlock tree rather than rush the prowling enemy. I pretend I don’t know he’s hiding so as not to embarrass him.
But most of the time Mo sleeps and keeps track of the squirrels and chipmunks from his stool at the window.
Mo is clever, humorous, forgiving, loyal, tolerant, loving, gentle, and patient. He is so beautiful! Is it possible he came to reminf me of the kind person I would like to be?
Maybe that’s Mo’s secret.