These are the Little Things

Sometimes, it’s the little things that are hardest to deal with. When we’re all inside, looking at our screens, the most glaring of these little things become apparent. When Lily, the cat that (almost) played half of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star has made more people smile than you will in a lifetime, the little things feel like a means to an end that you’ll never reach.

In these times, the only thing we can do is accept it - and embrace it. I say this, because I have found it. I know the formula. My cat will do something adorable, and I’m gonna catch it on camera. The cat will be the star, but at the very least, it’ll be on my channel. 

Lucky, fluffy and adorable though he is, will be my means. Other cats have been amusing, even heartwarming, but Lucky will best them all. There have been a lot of reasons to tear up this year, but Lucky will surpass them.

What is the formula you ask? Well I can’t tell you exactly, but it’s in the little things. The movements, the angles, that sneaky, lovable glance that only cats are capable of - it’s a mixture of the little things. Look, if you were a business with the most lucrative contribution to humanity in centuries, you wouldn't share it either, would you?

The point is, he’s a very special cat. He boasts that soft, lovely (puke-brown) coat that sad, lonely folk all over the world crave. He’s more adorable than several cats I have seen, at least. Well, okay, his looks don’t matter all that much, do they? There are a million cute little fluffy couch potatoes in the world, but if they don’t fall off a ceiling fan, nobody really cares, do they?

Is he the most obedient rascal? Would he pay attention to me if I didn’t feed him? Does he even come when I call his name? Well… that’s not important. These are little things in the grand scheme of it all. The important thing, see, is that there are millions of eyes waiting out the next silky sensation, and I will deliver it… through him! Through Lucky… when I find him.

Where is that little furball, anyway? He’s on my keyboard when I’m writing, and he’s on my face when I’m sleeping, but the one time I need him, he goes and disappears on me. I’ll just get that little squeaky toy he likes, I suppose. Here Lucky! Come here! C’mere. Ha, he loves these little things.

Okay, he… he’s not coming. I want to make him rich, famous and powerful and he’s not coming. Great, this is great. Like I said, it’s these little things - these annoyances that get the better of you at times. When you’ve got nothing better to do, or at least nothing else you want to do, this culmination of annoyances becomes more aggravating than anything else in the world.

Well, since you’re here and he’s not, I might as well explain my little plan. If your furry friend, unlike mine, is in the habit of acknowledging you, this is what to do. You put the blindfold on, them that is, and stick them on a table. You bring a saucer of cream up to their nose, and lure them to the edge until… oh COME ON. You too?

Everyone tells me how horrendously inhumane this is. They land on four legs for God’s sake! People always get upset over these little things. I’ll even give him the cream! Maybe. Well if you’re not gonna do it, I’ll gladly accept the fame and fortune, thank you very much. 

I just need to find him. It’s just a matter of time until the views come pouring in, and every pupil gets monetized and… hold on. Wh- what’s this? The neighbour’s cat. He’s fluffier, he’s handsome-er, he’s… better. Just outside the window, he struts around this place like a king, and he’s about as fat as one. Look at how he walks! His paws, criss-crossing cheerfully, his fur: bunched up in a regal puff. It’s these little things that spell the difference between fame and famine!

He sees a bird, a little chickadee, learning to flap her wings. He hunkers, he approaches, he leaps and… falls flat on his face. Falls. Flat on. His face! This is it! By God, this is it! I’ve gotta… where’s my phone, where’s- here! Do it again you chubby little varmint! 

He’s back up! Like a fallen sumo wrestler, he’s back up, and he’s prowling after Ms. Chickadee. He’s too chunky, and his paws are surely too short to catch her, but he’ll try. He’ll try and that’s all that matters. The lengths that kitties will go to, to catch these little things.

He’s prancing, he’s hopping and- 

He knocked it out of my hands. Lucky just knocked the phone out of my hands, and onto the driveway a floor below. That little rascal just ru-INED MY CHANCE AT HAPPINESS AND EFFORTLESS INCOME.

Almost Homer Simpson style, I clutch him tightly. 

“Why you little-”

But like cats do, he butts his head against my hand, and comes to rest on his side. While not quite as plump as the king next door, Lucky still has his unmistakable, mischievous charm. He kneads my shirt, and purrs softly.

As if his marionette, I stroke him obediently. His pur loudens, and he rotates onto his back. I don’t want to forgive him for probably destroying my phone, but his love, or feline charisma, is stronger than my grudge.

He may not be the prettiest thing, or really anything I cracked him up to be, but he doesn’t have to be. Unlike that lifeless bowling ball next door, he has the little things that make me happy. Those little things, that make it easier to get through this whole fiasco.

These little things may bother us. They might make us scream for some space. Their needy independence makes us long for the great outdoors. But when the world seems like it’s burning, and our institutions are collapsing, they are what get us through.