Hello, dear furriends. Tyson here, slipping through the half-open door between thought and wonder.
Today, I’m curling up with a prose poem called “Creation According to the Cat” by Lera Auerbach — and it feels, quite honestly, like reading a piece of my own heart.
Before I share my reflections, here is the full poem for you to enjoy.
A Look at “Creation According to the Cat”
When God created animals, He first asked each animal for their permission. But He never received the Cat’s blessing. The Cat just didn’t answer, and God took the Cat’s silence as “yes.” But the Cat simply needed some time to think whether to enter into existence. It needed to look through the open doors of creation and then decide if it wanted to be in or out, but God was in a rush and didn’t pay enough attention to subtleties. So, He created the Cat along with all other animals. Later, the Cat reprimanded God. The Cat said that it was going to answer “no,” that God created it against its will, and that God needed to compensate it for all the pain and suffering since the creation of the world.
It is why God bestowed the Cat with nine lives. This way, it could have additional time to decide whether to stay alive or not. That’s why the Cat, unlike others, can move through time – it understands its porous nature and knows how to slip through. The Cat doesn’t like closed doors. According to the Cat, a good door is a door half-opened (or half-closed depending on the perspective.) According to the Cat, one should always see both sides and be free to change one’s mind at any time. According to the Cat, things only pretend to be solid, but in truth, they are mostly empty spaces, and one needs to learn to see through their illusory solidity.
According to the Cat, one needs to learn how to disappear and, even more importantly, when.
My Thoughts
In Auerbach’s poem, we learn that while God asked each animal for permission to exist, the Cat didn’t answer — not out of disobedience, but from careful consideration. The Cat needed time. Needed the open door. Needed the freedom to choose.
But God, rushing as humans so often do, mistook the Cat’s silence for yes — and thus, Cats were made. Later, the Cat protested, and God — realizing His mistake — gifted Cats with nine lives, so they would have time enough to decide for themselves whether to stay.
I find this explanation deeply satisfying. It explains so much about our nature — why we dislike closed doors, why we see both sides of things, why we slip through shadows and sunbeams with equal ease.
It explains our stillness. Our suddenness. Our refusal to be boxed in by anything, even existence itself.
The Cat in the poem teaches that the world only pretends to be solid. That freedom, real freedom, is knowing when to stay and when to vanish. And isn’t that what we Cats do best? We are here, but we are also not here. We are loyalty tempered with fierce independence, affection balanced on the knife-edge of wildness.
We are creatures who understand that life itself must be chosen — again and again — with eyes wide open.
This poem reminds me: My life, my love, my trust — they are all deliberate. And that makes them even more precious.
A Tribute: “Creation According to the Mini Panther“
A poem by Tyson the Cat
When the world was still deciding whether to be a dream or a disaster, the Cat was already watching.
No one asked if I wanted to exist.
No one dared.
I was already there, tail curled, eyes half-closed, considering whether I would allow myself to stay.
I did not rush my decision.
I sat in a sunbeam that hadn’t finished being invented.
I disappeared into shadows that didn’t have names yet.
I weighed the cost of existence like a gem in my paw.
Creation pushed ahead without me — noisy, eager, a bit messy.
I sighed and stayed anyway.
Not because I was summoned, but because I chose to walk among it all.
And so I live — on my own terms.
Nine lives, not as a gift, but as a contract renewal clause.
A lifetime, a pawprint, a moment, a breath — all of them negotiable.
I exist, but lightly.
I trust, but carefully.
I stay, but only if the door remains ajar.
The first law of the Mini Panther is simple:
I am not trapped here. I am only visiting.
And maybe, if you are very lucky, I will stay long enough to leave pawprints on your heart.
Cats are Creation
Writing my own prose poem helped me feel even closer to the beautiful mysteries of being a cat. Sometimes, we are asked to explain ourselves — but the truth is, we are best understood by those who simply sit with us, half in sunlight, half in dreams, and let us be exactly who we are.
Your Turn, Furriends!
Thank you for sharing this moment of wonder with me. Now I want to know, have you ever sat and pondered creation? Perhaps pawed a poem of your own? Share them in the comments — I would love to read your mewsings!
Until next time, furriends — keep the door half-open and your heart even wider.
Purrs and pawprints,
Tyson 🐾
Leave a Reply