“One man’s trash is another’s man’s treasure.” It’s all a matter of choice.
Man is not alone in making choices. Animals choose treasures, too.
Dogs go for bones, sticks, balls; cats opt for inedible parts of birds. Or moles.
They let us know that those are their treasures by laying them at the feet of the humans they treasure. Shared treasures increase in value, apparently.
I have a personal treasure, a little silver ring, purchased in a shop in Yellow Springs, Ohio, many, many years ago. It’s been on my left index finger since then. A part of me.
It’s slipped off several times, usually during cold weather. We’ve always been able to find it. Happily.
Until a week ago. It fell off and simply disappeared. We searched and searched. Even my son who is known to find the unfindable had to concede that it was gone.
I truly had to come to grips with its loss. It was one of those little seemingly worthless things that meant the world to me.
One night, a week or so after its disappearance, I had a dream that it was back on my finger. Such a vivid, happy dream.
Later that day, as I got up from “my spot” in the den – the spot where I read, write, do crosswords, drink wine, take a nap – truly my spot – the ring was on the floor. Right smack-dab in front of me. There was no way we could have missed it in our endless searches.
If you’re a cat person, you know exactly how it got there. Clearly, one of ours found it under something, knew it was his mother’s treasure and laid it at her feet. Oh, the joy!
If you’re not a cat person, well then your ring might still be missing.
On the other hand, small dead things wouldn’t constantly show up at your feet.
Choices. Always, choices.
Sallie Collins enjoys living on the banks of the May River and writes about it in her blog, www.LifeOnTheMay.com, from which this article is taken.