I can haz contentment?

This past weekend, I was on the phone with the parents, giving them their weekly phone call to let them know that their son had survived another week in the mean streets of Baltimore. Nibbler the cat was on my lap for a while, until she leaped off and headed downstairs, where her litterbox, water fountain, and food bowl are. A few minutes later she came back up, jumped into my lap, and started purring loudly and doing that paw kneading thing that's usually seen as a sign of a content cat.

It's always nice to have a happy cat - I'm not one of those people who thinks that cats are interchangeable with children - you can leave a 3 month old cat home alone for 12 hours, but not so much for a 3 month old human. Still, I do feel that by adopting her I have a certain responsibility for her, and it's nice to feel like I'm meeting that - that she's better off with me than if she was roaming the mean streets of Roland Park.

But I also felt another feeling watching her - jealousy. I wish I could take as much pleasure from simple things as she does. Presumably, she went downstairs to drink some tapwater, nibble on some dry kibble, maybe take a poop - and came back up incredibly happy. I get to eat better, do much more, and don't think I'm ever quite so happy - I mean, I never purr.

As far as things go, my life isn't too bad - I have a decent job that's pretty secure, has lots of perks, and at least some possibility of eventually moving up. I live in one of the most prosperous countries on earth, during the most technologically advanced period in history, I'm in good health. Of course, my social life isn't exactly the world's most active, and I seem to constantly fail at what seems to come easy to most people - dating and relationships.

Then again, maybe that's why Nibbler is so happy. Since she's "fixed", she doesn't need to worry about that kind of stuff.