She Has Her Own Program in Life

Poopie girl is a different kind of cat.

She does not want long cuddles or full-body pets. Most of the time, she will allow only a tiny moment of affection—a quick little butt scratch—and then, like a flash, she is gone.

There is no lingering.

No request for more.

No concern about whether I understand.

Poopie knows exactly what she wants, and she has no problem letting me know when the moment is over.

Every once in a while, usually in the evening, something changes. When I take the time to slow down and sit quietly, she may come over and cuddle with me for a few minutes.

Those moments are always brief.

Before I know it, she is gone again.

I cannot demand them or convince her to stay. I can only become still enough to be available when she chooses to come close.

Affection on Her Terms

It would be easy to compare Poopie with another cat who enjoys being held, stroked, or curled up beside a person for hours.

But Poopie is not here to be another kind of cat.

She does not owe me affection in the form I might expect or prefer. Her brief visits and quick little butt scratches are not lesser expressions of love simply because they do not last very long.

They are Poopie’s expressions.

Loving her means recognizing the ways she chooses to connect rather than trying to turn her into someone she is not.

Sometimes love looks like a long cuddle.

Sometimes it looks like a few quiet minutes beside me in the evening.

And sometimes it looks like a cat appearing at the door, announcing her arrival, and asking to leave again almost immediately.

Inside, Outside, and Back Again

Poopie loves being outdoors.

She will come inside, stay for only a few seconds, and then decide she wants to go right back out. A short time later, she will return to the door, meowing to come inside again.

She could repeat this all day long.

I do not chastise her or become frustrated. I open the door, say hello, and remind her to be careful outside.

Then, moments later, there she is again.

To someone watching, it might appear that Poopie cannot make up her mind.

But I do not think Poopie is confused.

In each moment, she knows exactly where she wants to be.

She does not worry that she chose differently a few minutes earlier. She does not force herself to stay inside because she just asked to come in. She does not remain outside because she thinks changing her mind will inconvenience me.

She responds to what feels right now.

Then she responds again when something changes.

There is a beautiful freedom in that.

Her Offerings

Poopie also brings presents.

She will catch some sort of rodent and leave it on the porch for me and for Tippy boy. Poopie does not eat it herself. She brings it home and leaves it as an offering.

When Tippy notices it, he eats it.

Poopie provides the gift, and Tippy happily accepts it.

There is something wonderfully natural about their arrangement. No one assigned them these roles. Poopie decided what she wanted to offer, and Tippy decided what he wanted to receive.

Poopie’s gifts may not be the kind I would choose for myself, but they are meaningful because they come from her instincts, her abilities, and her way of participating in our family.

She gives what she knows how to give.

Living Without Permission

Poopie does not move through life wondering whether everyone approves of her choices.

She does not ask whether she is affectionate enough.

She does not apologize for needing space.

She does not remain somewhere after she is ready to leave.

She does not appear concerned about whether her independence makes other beings uncomfortable.

She’s a wonderful cat with her own program in life.

Poopie does not need validation from anyone. She goes through life doing it her way.

There is no performance in her.

She simply is.

Perhaps this is one of the reasons animals can be such powerful teachers. They are not continually trying to become what everyone else expects them to be. They live according to their nature.

Poopie reminds me that independence is not rejection.

A boundary is not an absence of love.

A short moment of connection can still be a complete moment.

And changing our minds does not always require an explanation.

You May Be Wondering…

How do we love an animal companion who does not want affection in the way we hoped?

We begin by becoming curious about who they truly are.

Instead of asking, “Why won’t she let me love her?” we might ask, “How does she choose to receive and express love?”

Perhaps she wants to sit nearby without being touched.

Perhaps she enjoys one particular kind of scratch.

Perhaps she comes close only when the house is quiet and we have finally slowed down.

Our role is not to force connection. It is to notice the connection that is already being offered.

When we release our expectations, we create room for a more honest relationship—one built around respect rather than possession and listening rather than control.

Poopie may give me only a few minutes at a time, but those minutes are freely chosen.

That makes them precious.

She teaches me to appreciate what is offered without demanding more, to open the door without resentment, and to love another being without asking her to abandon her nature.

Poopie girl is not here to follow anyone else’s program.

She has her own.

And she lives it beautifully.

May you see the world through the eyes of love, remembering that we are all part of one living, sacred whole.