Today is different. It arrives from a whirlwind of finding a stray cat and reuniting it with its owner.

While my frustrations with the experience have many nuances, they stem from my own cat, Pook, who passed away about a year ago. I was never a cat person, and I was even allergic to them. That created a habit of never petting them for years and just offering a nice foot for them to graze against, because you don’t want to touch them and have the watery eyes and histamine effects converging on your sinuses and body.

Oddly, I outgrew that, but still, this house is Pook’s house, even if she isn’t here. It’s hers…and always will be. I felt like I was betraying her, as I could maybe have another dog as a pet, but not another cat, or at least not right now.

My love for my pets is not common, and that is not something I will negotiate with others. While many people feel the same as me, many never will, and will always see the love of a pet as some secondary entitlement that will never sit well with me.

Animals are the only true unconditional love, and that primarily comes from a dog. No matter how you treat a dog, it will love you unconditionally. My dog, Shadow, was like that. Cats are different with their own standards, and my cat, Pook, picked me one night…

It was snowy and cold. I lived on the corner of a depleted urban space with train tracks as my neighbor, as the last split-level house on a dead end block. I stepped out front to smoke, and a little kitten walked out from under a van and just walked into my house. My concerns about my allergies and what to do with this “little fucker,” were my only concerns, but the night was cold, and my little apartment had enough space to ‘endure’ any allergies that may arrive.

After spending weeks attempting to adopt her out, my friend’s wife asked me, “Why don’t you just keep her?”

Thoughts of commitment and allergies flooded me. Logically, I responded, “I’m allergic to cats,” as that is what I’ve felt and told myself for over three decades. Even with my ‘elite’ self-awareness, I had a blind spot, as she asked simply, “Well…are you allergic to her?”

My brain puzzled over the question. My life and love language is accuracy. Many may not accept it as a life or love language, but if you’re meeting someone on a foundation where both of you are heard, seen, and sharing your truth, can you refute that it’s the true embodiment of what really matters in moments and life? While I’m not here to promote and sell you on that today, my commitment to it is uncompromised. Even though it didn’t make sense to my history of that experience, I responded with the only truth I knew in that moment: “No.”

In that moment, I can feel her not wanting to insult me with the obvious thoughts that should be arriving in my head, and with her eyes, she’s coercing a simple “C’mon…figure it out.” I’m like, “Oh shit?! I have a cat, who is now my cat.”

And so, the story of Pook branding herself onto me begins. I use the word branding, as people leave scars from betrayal. Pets brand you with a mark that imprints you, and that gladly will carry until your dying day. Both my pets, Shadow and Pook, gave me that. Oddly, they share the same birthday, August 20th.

While I love and miss them, this is not the intention of this entry. Even though it fits the title perfectly (The Gift, in case you forgot), it would be a dishonor to both of my pets, as this article is not long enough to capture the love, support, and purpose they have given me. That’s a significantly different rabbit hole that I’m not sharing today.

It’s the emotions of my experience with this stray cat, and the magnified uncertainty of potentially having to take him to a shelter and work through the feeling of betraying Pook for keeping him. Fortunately, the real owner was found…and quickly.

The one little odd anecdote of this experience, which I never would’ve known had the stray cat’s owner not been found, was that I used to joke to Pook about getting a Duke, or at least a name that rhymed with Pook, but as a companion dog. This cat’s name was Duke. So, here’s to the bridge of Pook & Duke, but like I’ll share here, as I did with my friends about this story, Duke was a cool cat, but he wasn’t my cat.

So, if this story is about The Gift, you are probably asking, “Where are you going with this?”

Yes, Pook, Shadow…and even Duke were gifts to me, but more importantly, I received a gift shortly before this. It was from a friend that I’ve recently caught up with, and oddly, he intentionally or unintentionally taught me something.

After a marathon of catching up, as I tend to spend exhaustive, yet fulfilling, rabbit holes with people, he mentioned a book he was interested in buying, called The Awakening to Human Nature, by Owen Pierce. This is not an affiliate post to sell this person’s book, as I was not challenged about what he shared about the book, but only for it to be available for purchase on the TikTok Shop (oddly, today, it’s available on Amazon). Personally, that felt like a red flag to me, and while the context and details about the book seemed to speak significantly to me, the flag felt like a scam of “blah” thoughts for a quick cash-in.

Because it was on the TikTok Shop, my friend made the purchase despite my discomfort. A few weeks later, I had another phenomenal catch-up with him, where he refused my money and called the book a gift.

I’ve given to many people, and some not-so-deserving, but because of my background (and shall we say, trauma), a gift always felt like an obligation. It reminded me of how Sheldon described gifts in The Big Bang Theory, but maybe a little worse (trauma).

His words, “a gift,” ruminated with me on my ride home as I thought about how I never framed my acts as a gift. I never held the same standard obligations forced on me (removing some of the trauma). It was always just a simple, “I got you.”

A few days passed until this stray cat found its way to me. That experience forced me into an emotional experience of my previous and current grief (it never ends), a depleted state of lack of sleep from finding this cat in the late-night hours, and finding the owner with pings of social media waking me back up only a few hours later.

After reuniting Duke with his owner, I completed my work for the day and took a well-needed nap. When I woke up, I picked up that gift, doubtful of what it could provide. It starts below, with triggers and traumas that I already know too well in life…

After wanting to put it down, because I don’t need to relive those ruminating thoughts again, I continued…

Another epitome I had on my first day of therapy, which is defined as The Identified Patient, the Symptom Bearer. (There are many articles out there that may help you, and if you are the black sheep of your family, I recommend digging in those trenches. Here is one.) I’m not getting annoyed yet, but my brain is saying, “I know these things. Do I really need this book to tell me AGAIN?”

So, I continued to where that chapter ends, leaving the words below, which frustrate me…

“To live effectively in life, do I really have to be another adult’s parent?” The simple answer is, “No.” The complex answer is still, “No.” We have to decide what we want from relationships, and that answer is finite and specific to what we want from each relationship.

The most important thing that comes from here is the awareness of receiving that truth and using it or not using it when I’m dissatisfied with my relationships in the world. Even when others describe my self-awareness as “elite,” it can only exist with continuing that growth. While my alignment with what I seek in this world is to remain content (the peace), seek fulfillment (the rarities), and minimize suffering (the inevitabilities), living in this state always requires work, even if it can arrive as a burden or with puzzles of doubt.

This book may or may not be profound, but it challenged me while also affirming obvious revelations I’ve known on my own. My friend gave me that exact lesson, intentionally or unintentionally. Maybe he did it for himself, too, but I must share with him that I appreciate it. Thank you. He guided me to open a door he wanted for himself, me, or maybe both of us, and it worked.

Whether the book lands or not, it’s an instrument that will create a response. Just like my poem, The END (Energy Never Dies). It moves us in ways, especially through suffering, that we never realize create the want and need for peace (to be content) and toward those rare moments of fulfillment.

Whether the book lands or not, it’s an instrument that will create a response. This one small pebble created a ripple. Whether it was the gift of Shadow, Pook, Duke, or my friend, in this moment, I was taught the graciousness to be able to receive without an obligation, a trigger of an emotional experience that queued me to pick it up, and some thought-provoking affirmations and challenges that caused me to write.

And now you’re here reading it…