Lucky and Lucky Me

Lucky, our Maine Coon cat, doesn't know he's a Maine Coon, or a cat, nor that he's not a dog.

This holiday Lucky's given me a great gift to add to the hundreds of gifts he's given me since he adopted us in 2003.

Lucky often tags along on our walks with the dogs. He doesn't need an invitation to come along, or any encouragement. He just appears behind us, stays a few yards behind us or sometimes he zooms forward, ahead of us.

Sometimes on long hikes when it's hot, he plunks himself down on the caliche and quits, admirably getting one of us well-trained two-leggeds to pick him up and carry his hot little 15-pound furriness home in our arms.

Unlike my smart, little friend, I can get so tangled up and caught in labels and titles, names and symbols, that I confuse the words with something real. This holiday, as Lucky accompanied our little family/tribe on our daily walks, I loved being reminded by Lucky that labels don't have to limit us or keep any of us on the front porch. Each of us is much more than the labels that we or others use to describe us-- teacher, artist, 57 years-old, female, Latina, yellow-dog democrat.

The shorthand of language may be all we have to "tag" or describe, but it is important to remember the word is not equal to the vast, immeasurable mystery and thrill that is at the heart of our aliveness. The words don't do justice to the ineffable, intangible quality that is the spirit inside each of us. Thanks, Lucky.