Cats, dogs and children teach me efficiency doesn’t always matter

I was trying to write Monday evening when little gray paws appeared on the edge of my chair. Oliver was purring as he climbed onto the chair.

My MacBook was in my lap and I was hard at work. But Oliver started kneading his paws up and down on my belly as he tried to wedge himself into a space that was already full. He wanted attention.

And what was more important to me? Some work that could wait a few more minutes or some quality time with a purring cat who loves me?

I put the MacBook onto the nearby bed and let Oliver take over my lap. He draped himself over me and looked up expectantly. He wanted me to rub him and he made that clear. When I complied with his wishes, the purring got louder.

As I sat here letting a warm gray bundle of fur dictate my schedule for a few minutes, it occurred to me that this wasn’t the most efficient use of my time — but it was important to both of us in ways that are hard to explain.

We spend so much of our lives asking whether something is productive that we sometimes forget to ask whether it’s meaningful.

I’ve told you before that I didn’t grow up with animals. It wasn’t until my late 20s when I lived with any critter. Before I knew it, though, I found that these tiny living creatures — both cats and dogs — changed my life in ways that mattered deeply to me.

Every cat I’ve lived with has been different. Oliver wants to live in my lap. Alex prefers affection on his own terms. Sam arrived so feral that he wanted nothing to do with people. Today he occasionally rewards me with the quietest little purr imaginable.

In general, dogs are more eager for attention and connection with us. Some wanted attention so much that they were like happy balls of furry anti-depressants. When my most recent dog, Lucy, died eight months ago, it broke my heart. I still think about her every day.

Children seem to affect me in much the way that cats and dogs do. I have a friend who has two young children — a boy who just turned 7 and a girl who’s about to turn 11 — and they rush to hug me each time I see them.

Their hugs mean the world to me. Children don’t pretend to be happy to see you. If they light up when you walk through the door, it’s because your presence genuinely matters to them.

Spending time with children isn’t always an efficient use of time either. You rarely get anything “done.” But like time spent with a cat curled in your lap, those moments have a way of reminding me that efficiency isn’t always life’s highest value.

The time I invested in all of them was different, but they all share something in common. The time I spend with cats, dogs and children makes me a better man.

I want to be a loving man. I want to be a generous and understanding man. I want to give to others and bring joy when I can.

I get to practice that with Oliver. I practice that with Alex when I rub him at night when I tell him goodnight. I practice that with Sam as I work to earn his trust.

Investing time in animals and children isn’t always the most convenient thing in a given moment. Sometimes it is, but often it’s not. But I always find that it’s worth the investment.

Cats, dogs and children all have one thing in common. None of them care how much work I accomplished that day. They simply care whether I’m present. They remind me that love is measured less by efficiency than by attention.

Monday night, Oliver interrupted my work for a few minutes. On paper, I fell behind schedule. In reality, I was reminded of something I need to remember more often. The moments that matter most in life rarely look efficient while they’re happening.

Sometimes, they simply look like a purring gray cat climbing into your lap.