What does it mean to do things right? To do things properly?

When I was a lion cub, I was taught the same lesson my parents had been. Hard work pays off. Get good grades in school. Be kind.

If one did all of these things, then good things were supposed to happen. You would get a job that invigorated you, supportive friends and a den that didn’t have mice regularly squatting in it.

Where did it all go wrong?

At times, it’s hard to not consider the path not taken. What if I’d polished a few less apples in school? Perhaps I would have made closer friends and avoided the nickname “Teacher’s Kitten”. What if I’d hung my dreams on the cave wall and contented myself with a normal career?

Ah, it’s so difficult to know whether the grass truly is greener on the other side.

I suppose it’s better to tread your own path, unless you’re trekking in the wilds of the jungle. Then you keep to the well-worn path like your fur depends on it.

Oh well, it’s too late to change course. I’ve decided on the artist’s path, and I must see it through to the bitter end. Disappointment and suffering can make for intriguing art, but it’s the spark of hope that gives it life.

I must maintain that spark at all costs. Defend it against the harsh winds that rattle through my den and nibbling squatters.

Here I am, world. Be ready.

Yours