Lisa Geichman Prosek

It starts first thing in the morning, even before the sun wakes.

I wish I could adequately convey how it sounds. As I write, I imagine that it’s a mix between a trumpet’s blare and a baby’s coo. It’s my cat, Bud, making his special cry for milk. He cries so hard and so long and so loud and so often that in between the cries I still hear them.

There’s certainly no way to sleep through this. So, I get up, open the bedroom door, and there’s tortoiseshell Bud’s bright little face with the brilliant green eyes. He zooms into the bedroom, happy tail up, intent on continuing his campaign.

And why not? He’s already achieved one goal.

I brush my teeth. Walk between the bedroom and the office getting my work ready for the day. Every time I head toward the stairs, Bud shoots down–hop, hop, hop–sure that it’s time for his morning indulgence.

When he thinks I might have forgotten about him, Bud comes back upstairs and cries some more.

It never occurs to him that he won’t get his milk. He just keeps working me.

Finally, feeling a cross between annoyance and admiration, I take a few moments and trudge downstairs to the kitchen.

While I pour my coffee, Bud’s crying continues, and he trips around, rubbing my legs. Every gentle touch a reminder: Milk! Milk! Milk! When he sees me getting the carton out of the fridge, he almost dances through the kitchen on his tiptoes.

Because I could never carry a saucer of milk with Bud constantly bumping into my legs, I pour a little bit of Bud’s goal into his special glass, and we venture upstairs to hide from Bud’s milk-allergic feline brother.

Once we get up there, I put the glass on the floor, and Bud dips his right front foot in and then licks off the milk. It takes him about ten minutes to suck up all the treat. He’s usually quiet, but he’s so into the process that sometimes he mews with delight. His work is consistent. Diligent. Patient.

From beginning to end–crying to reward–Bud’s in the moment. He understands the importance of strategy, the significance of small accomplishments. His faith never wavers. He never fears making a mess with unimportant little dribbles of milk. He keeps his focus on the goal. He basks in the glory of the pursuit as well as in the victory.

I’m grateful for these daily lessons from my wise and happy cat.