Gratitude

The following is an extract from Max Lucado' book, "Every Day derseves a Chance."

Excerpts from the diary of a dog:

8.00 a.m. Oh boy, dog food - my favourite.
9.30 a.m. Oh boy, a car ride - my favourite.
9.40 a.m. Oh boy, a walk - my favourite.
10.30 a.m. Oh boy, another car ride - my favourite.
11.30 a.m. Oh boy, more dog food - my favourite.
12.00 p.m. Oh boy, the kids - my favourite.
1.00 p.m. Oh boy, the yard - my favourite.
4.00 p.m. Oh boy, the kids again - my favourite.
5.00 p.m. Oh boy, dog food again - my favourite.
5.30 p.m. Oh boy, Mom, my favourite.
6.00 p.m. Oh boy, playing ball - my favourite.
8.30 p.m. Oh boy, sleeping in my master's bed - my favourite.

Exerpts from the diary of a cat:

Day 283 of my captivity. My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre litlle dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat while I'm forced to eat dry cereal. I'm sustained by the hope of escape and the mild satisfaction I derive from ruining a few pieces of furniture. Tomorrow i may eat another houseplant. I attempted to kill my captors this morning by weaving through their walking feet. Nearly succeeded. Must try this strategy at the top of the stairs. Seeking to disgust and repulse these vile oppressors, I once again induced myself to vomit on their favourite chair. Must try this on their bed. To display my diabolical disposition, I decapitated a mouts and deposited the headless body on their kitchen floor. They only cooed and condescended, patting my head and calling me a "strong little kitty". Hmm - not working according to plan. During a gathering of their accomplices, they placed me in solitary confinement. I overheard that my confinement was due to my power of allergies. Must learn what this means and how to use it to my advantage.
I am convinced the other household captives are flunkies, perhaps snitches. The dog is routinely pleased and seems natively happy to return. He is, no doubt, a half-wit. The bird speaks with the humans regularly. Must be an informant. I am certain he reports my every move. Due to his current placement in the metal cage, his safety is assured, but I can wait.

The day of a dog. The day of a cat. One content, the other conniving. One at peace, the other at war. One grateful, the other grumpy. Same house. Same circumstances."

I have always thought myself a cat person. Now I am going to work at being a dog. I would like to be grateful for all things and enjoy whatever comes my way.