If I were a dog, I would spend my time digging to China and then sprawl in the coolness of the dirt I had just excavated, although I would not think the word excavate. . . .
If I were a cat, I would rule my household differently than I do now. I would arch my back and the male of the household would rush to my side without a second glance at the TV, whether in the fourth quarter, tied score, the last three laps of Daytona 500, the perfect putt by his favorite golfer still two inches from the eighteenth hole at the Masters, the reveal of the murderer, the perfect car chase scene, the one line that explains the entire movie, his favorite bedroom scene, and so on. You get it, I’m sure.
If I were a songbird, I would sing my day away. I would sing in joy, in pain, in love, in happiness, in boredom. I wouldn’t worry for one nanosecond if I could keep a tune, because I would never squawk, just sing.
If I were a carpenter and you were a lady, oops, that is a song. . So, check out this old footage of Johnnny Cash and June Carter singing a medley and just plain having fun.
If I were a fish, I would make kissing motions without worrying about the wrinkles around my mouth and just sashay myself through the water tasting the delicacies that waited wherever I chose to wander. I would swim in and out of tiny crevices (I would be a little fish) and swim straight up toward the light and back down into the dark shadows (and hope it was not just an open mouth of a bigger fish).
If I were a seagull, I would fly, then free fall, pull back up just before I hit the water so the wind I created sucked water out and into the air, sending droplets to refract light into tiny rainbows.
If I were a turtle, I would saunter through the grass, so slowly I could almost watch it grow and not miss a thing. There would be bugs to watch frolicking between the blades of grass, dirt piles to climb and look out at my kingdom, rocks that weren’t there yesterday to detour around. I would slide into the cool water in spring, but in summer after sunbathing on that log that broke away from the pack, I would dive headfirst into the overheated water that felt cool after hours in the hot sun.
If I were a rabbit, I would hop around left and right, in circles, and nuzzle the earth, laze in the cool grasses and gaze longingly at the yellow dandelions, then munch heartily on their deep green (and spicy) leaves. I would flaunt my soft black and white and brown fur and tease the little ones as I ran from them, after all, I am fast and they are still learning.
But, I am human. . . aren’t I lucky; I can do most all they can, if I so choose, although I need to work on my singing ability — and that cat arching the back thing. . . getting a bit stiff.
