Tree and the Garden of Temptation

The song was done by Steven Fitzpatrick and he gave this to me for Tree Tuesday.

It was a Tuesday, and for Tree, a male Russian Blue with eyes like polished jade, it was meant to be a day of serene contentment. He was happily kneading his favorite rug when his human came home carrying a new plant. It was a beautiful thing, with delicate, star-shaped leaves and an aroma that made his whiskers twitch. It was catnip, and his human placed it in a sunny spot on the windowsill, just out of his reach.

Tree, a connoisseur of fine things, was immediately captivated. He sat on the floor, mesmerized by the plant. He tried to jump, but the windowsill was too high. He tried to stretch, but his paw could not reach. The catnip, with its intoxicating scent, became an obsession.

Over the next few days, Tree’s life became a frantic pursuit. He spent all his time plotting and scheming, trying every trick he knew to get to the plant. He tried knocking a chair over, but his human just laughed and put it back up. He tried batting at the blinds, but the plant remained safe on the windowsill. He became so focused on the catnip that he forgot about his favorite sunbeam, he turned his nose up at his usual meals, and he ignored his human’s gentle attempts to cuddle him. His emerald eyes, once filled with calm, now held a frantic, focused intensity. He became tired, hungry, and frustrated, always just a few feet away from the intoxicating scent.

One afternoon, a fierce storm rolled in. The rain came down in sheets, and the wind howled outside. Tree, still on the floor, watched as the plant on the windowsill swayed back and forth. His heart was filled with a mix of anticipation and dread, hoping the plant would fall, but also fearing it would be destroyed. Just then, the plant fell, but it didn’t break. The catnip plant was safe, but Tree had been so distracted, he hadn’t noticed his human walking in with his favorite blanket.

Defeated, exhausted, and feeling strangely empty, Tree slunk back to his favorite rug. He saw his human sitting in her favorite chair, with his blanket draped over her lap. He walked over, his head held low, and hesitantly jumped onto the blanket. It was soft and warm, and a gentle hand began to stroke his back. Tree’s body, which had been tense for days, began to relax. A deep, rumbling purr, which had been silent for days, started to vibrate in his chest.

He realized in that moment that the catnip, with its intoxicating scent, was never the true source of his comfort. The real source of warmth and happiness was the unwavering presence of his human, the gentle hand on his fur, and the simple, predictable joy that he had all along. The pursuit of what he couldn’t have had only made him miserable.

The moral of the story: It’s easy to become obsessed with wanting what you can’t have, but often the greatest happiness and comfort are found in the simple, consistent joys of life that you already possess.