Living in the outskirts of exurbia, I never know what may present itself during meditation practice. In the Winter, the pulsing thrum of snowmobiles is sometimes heard, while in the warmer months, the lub-lub-lub of the Harley-Davidson V-Twin occasionally accompanies my practice.
Most days I'm accompanied by cats; sometimes lugubriously sitting by a closed door, often meditating on my lap, or just passing through the Dharma Hall on an undisclosed mission.
The other day, Amelia's mission had taken on an unusual urgency. She bolted down the stairs and came flying into the Dharma Hall. The bushiness of her tail indicated there was big excitement in the air, and her furtive movements were unusual. It was still daybreak, so I could not make out the cause of her alarm, though it did not appear that she was being pursued or otherwise in danger.
As I continued meditating on form, the cause of her furtive movements came into focus - she had brought a live mouse into the Dharma Hall, and it had just escaped from her clutches.
Meditating on form was about to give way to a movement meditation, as the forthcoming cat-and-mouse game would cause all manner of karmic demerits.
Moments before I arose, the mouse shot toward me, and with Amelia in hot pursuit, ducked behind my meditation cushion. I could almost feel the mouse panting with relief at its stay of execution.
Surprisingly, Amelia immediately lost interest in the mouse, and curled up in my lap. Within a few moments, Amelia was soundly meditating in my lap, with the mouse hidden behind my meditation cushion.
The moments expanded into minutes, and I could almost feel the mouse relaxing behind me. After a few more minutes, it almost seemed as though the mouse was joining me and the cat in meditating.
I could hardly help but smiling - perhaps the three of us were meditating together!