A Lesser Known Parable

This morning, I was having trouble leaving the house  because of this situation: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hPHLQNyKFZ8&feature=youtu.be

So just to ensure I was late to work, I video taped my cat and sent his stunningly cute image to all my friends and family.

This, in response, from my father:


On Tue, Mar 18, 2014 at 1:32 PM, Dad wrote:

Well, Meta is awesomely cute!

However, I’m a little jaded right now about animals in general. My coworker has an adorable little dog that he brings to the office and it runs around and everyone the office loves it including me. An hour ago I had a meeting in my office about a funeral this Saturday. We had just sat down when the dog came in to say hello. Then he walked over between our chairs and took what a friend of mine used to refer to as “a righteous crap.” He is a small dog, but you wouldn’t know it by what he left on the floor. Besides the embarrassing clean up, I had to pull the storm windows off and open the office windows because the room had become uninhabitable!

What would Jesus Do?

Love, Dad


Apparently he’s never heard the Poo Parable. I guess that didn’t make it into the synoptic gospels. I’ll reproduce it here for your reference.

From the Gospel according to Herman:

One of the multitude came up to him and asked, “Lord, tell me how to spread your word and speak as you have spoken and I will go and tell it to my family, that they may learn as I have learned.”

And Jesus said to him, “Behold this little dog. He has no power of speech. All he says he says in barks and yips. He cowers close to the ground and accepts the pat of your palm, yet he is closer to the kingdom of heaven than you. For who among you can spread joy as he spreads joy with one pant of the breath? And who among you can give forth a mound of raw earth from his rear end greater in size than even himself? With one movement of the bowels this creature fills the whole room with absolute knowledge of his presence. So, too, does your Lord, my Father. So, too, is the kingdom of heaven apparent to those who know how to smell. Who will now ask to speak as I have spoken or spread words and not the mute aroma of his love?”

And the man came forth with bowed head and knelt at Jesus’ feet and said, “Teacher,” and took the pooper-scooper which the disciples then presented to him.

– Herman, 14:17-28

And that’s your scripture lesson for today.


The Meta Journals, Late November

Like any respectable (read: obsessed) cat owner, I make frequent notes on my cat Meta’s behavior and its implications for life on earth. Here are several collected from the past few days.

Nov 23, 1:46 PM, A Series of Evidence-Based Hypotheses 

When I hold up a toy, my cat runs away in anticipation of my throwing it. Then when I actually throw it, he merely watches it fall. He may be a Time Lord. Or a Buddhist Monk. I suspect his chances of making it into major league baseball are slimmer than previously understood.

Nov 23, 11:45 PM, General Observation

Cats are cray-cray. And I’ve just been informed that cray-cray is dead. I am several years late to this party. The metaphorical champagne is flat.

Nov 24, 3:57 PM, Delusions of Grandeur

My cat’s contribution to my thesis: “74444444444444444444444444”. Surely this has some sort of epic, 42-esque significance to him and provides a cryptic answer to one of life’s unanswered questions. Or, possibly, one of my research questions. Surely. I had better leave it in.

Nov 25, 2:01 AM, An Open Letter Not Initially About My Cat. But then, all open letters are about my cat.

Dear Abyss,

Your lessons are not comforting.

Still, I’m still grateful you are there for me to stare at and occasionally talk to.

In this way, you are much like my cat.


Nov 25, 2:28 AM, Paranoia Sets In, A Solution In the Form of SCIENCE Presents Itself

My cat may be digging a hole through the floor beneath my bed. I can hear determined scratching and he does not respond to my calls. Clearly, he is too far gone in his task to be roused from the flow state now. If I’m dead tomorrow, it will be because the bed and I both fell through this feline-engineered orifice, right into my rather strange neighbor’s room below. If the fall doesn’t kill me, I suspect one of her curiously jagged “decorations” will.

I’m betting Meta survives, but I doubt he’ll tell the world my story. I’m not sure how he manages to be both useless and lovable at the same time, but I should make an empirical study of it. What an impeccable combination of qualities.

More observations if I survive the night.