No worries, if you follow my pet philosophy

I worry about the collapsing economy, I worry about global warming, I worry about pitiless financiers.

I worry about my pension, I worry about my house, I worry about my kids.

I worry about the decisions I take, I worry about whether I have the authority to take them, I worry about the decisions that others take if I don’t.

I worry about upsetting my wife, about irritating my friends, about being taken for an insensitive fool instead of a wit with a ready word of banter.

I worry about the way I look, I worry about the way I work, I worry about the way I talk (or at least about how much).

Sometimes I worry about why I worry so much.

And yet right in my own household I have an object lesson in not worrying. Two object lessons in fact, since one is being taught to me with a feline flavour by Misty, the other in a more canine style by Janka. Different in their origins, the lessons are nonetheless strangely similar in their message.

Summertime and the living is easy

cats are slumping

and the sleeping dogs lie

What are they telling me? Chill out. Relax. None of these things matter. Lie back and enjoy the summer. And throw dignity to the winds as you do so.

That being said, it's not much of a summer at the moment, as Janka and I discovered this morning running in comradely solidarity through the sheeting rain. Still, not even that seems to worry her. Or Misty either, who merely demanded his breakfast on our return.

Life would be so much easier if I could be a little more like them. I need to learn to live more in the present. I need to learn to enjoy it while I can. But sometimes that seems to be beyond me.

Which is quite worrying.