“I’m sure glad I’m not a cat,” was how the story ended. I heard it often growing up — a snippet of a Mormon sermon about a boy and his childhood pet. The original teller, a Mormon official named Glenn L. Pace, said that he would “look longingly” at his cat curled up in front of the heating vent as he left for school each morning and could almost hear it mocking him as he ventured out into the cold. But after “experiencing the joys and sorrows of the school day” and finding the feline sitting in the exact same place he left it, Glenn felt like he got the last laugh. The cat hadn’t done anything all day. But Glenn had left the house. Glenn had done something. Experienced something. Learned something.
Nowhere Pt. II
Nowhere Pt. II
Nowhere Pt. II
“I’m sure glad I’m not a cat,” was how the story ended. I heard it often growing up — a snippet of a Mormon sermon about a boy and his childhood pet. The original teller, a Mormon official named Glenn L. Pace, said that he would “look longingly” at his cat curled up in front of the heating vent as he left for school each morning and could almost hear it mocking him as he ventured out into the cold. But after “experiencing the joys and sorrows of the school day” and finding the feline sitting in the exact same place he left it, Glenn felt like he got the last laugh. The cat hadn’t done anything all day. But Glenn had left the house. Glenn had done something. Experienced something. Learned something.