Some people pay bookoo bucks to have an audience with some sort of spiritual leader. You know, like the Beatles, or Madonna. You go across the world, and devote yourself to their teaching, and then you get enlightened. Or something. Me? My guru lives in my house and cost me $45, because the Humane Society was having a special!
Poppet has been a tear lately. Specifically, on a tear of breaking my stuff. The best and most spectacular was when he knocked the crockpot off the top of the fridge. Yep, that ceramic sure does shatter! He’s been on a mission to mess with EVERYTHING. He’s been batting at glass pictures on the walls, chewing on books, and knocking anything breakable off flat surfaces.
And at first, I was super annoyed. (He has long had the nickname, “Stop it, Poppet” for a reason!) But then I started to think about what he was messing with. And I’ll be damned if he isn’t choosing things that I need to start getting rid of, because there won’t be room in the RV.
There’s probably some Buddhist lesson here about impermanence, and the happiness that comes with not being attached to things. But Poppet is a simple prophet. He doles out a lesson, and then recommends a nap and a snuggle. Lesson learned and let’s move on.