When my cat yowls at night, he always has some toy or other thing in his mouth. We wonder why he is programmed to make such a racket, when he doesn't make much noise the rest of the day. There are no other cats to talk to, no people even. It just struck me that it must be the sound he makes to announce himself as a hunter able to provide for a family, just as male birds make noises to announce that they have made a good nest. He is no hunter, this soft housecat, neutered and declawed, socially inept. He's never killed prey in his life. And yet, at night, he takes in his jaws a stuffed animal, roughs it up a bit, and howls of his great victory. It is a yearning, nothing more, that he feels compelled to act out. This drama is probably a mystery of life to my cat. He may not understand it, but he still feels drawn to do it, because it feels right to do so. When I come into the living room and glare at him, or just walk toward him (he always moves before I step on him in the dark), he makes a questioning noise, drops the toy, and walks away from it. Am I supposed to inspect the kill, accept it, and will this raise my cat's self-esteem? Does my cat have self-esteem, with no females to impress and nothing to worry about but snack number 14 or finding the best place to sleep? It makes me think about what my own self-esteem is dependent upon, and what I must do, what I am compelled to do by inner yearnings that I cannot explain. I have no need to win women; I have a wonderful girlfriend, and all my desires to please are aimed at her. I want to be funnier, so I can provide fulfilling entertainment for her. I want to be financially successful, so that I can provide economic fulfillment for her. She likes competance, and that works, because I like learning things and doing things. She likes warmth, and that works, because I'm a personal space heater. [laughs] She likes comfort, and that works, because I love giving hugs, and I like pillows and stuffed animals (and act like them sometimes too). ...Yet there is so much more to my self-esteem than what she gives me. I do not depend upon her to make me feel good about myself. No, there is something inside me, something I have forgotten how to listen to, something that no longer has the power to impel me to action. And I want it to. It calls to me, this burning desire for something more, some expectation for myself that I am not satisfying, and I do not know how to listen and do. I do not know what song I must sing in the dark of the night with a stuffed animal in my mouth. I fear I am slowly forgetting how to sing. It is frightening, more frightening than anything I have ever known, to think that I may be losing the power of my own happiness. What quest can I embark upon, where would I start, where would I go, what would I do, to find that power within myself? I do not know, and I am tired, too tired. Is it the slow enveloping creep of time, or the death of my spirit, that I feel? This fight is not yet over, there have been no knockout punches thrown on either side, but I know not what else to do besides stand there with my arms in front of my body, trying to block the blows. I know there is more than this, but what is it? What is it??