Maya devi and the Laser Chaser

We’re like the best housesitters ever.

Not only shall we provide sufficient kitty litter, we pledge to drive your cat absolutely crazy while you’re away.

Laser pointers—formerly used only by dignified humans for making dignified corporate presentations—are now explicitly sold as pet toys, under the name “Laser Chase.”

Apparently, dignified, pet owning humans have discovered the unbounded bliss of watching their crazed pets chase a little red light.

So we bought one. I was skeptical. “More fun than chasing your own tail” the package claimed, showing cartoons of angry birds, lizards, and dogs.

“The cat will get bored in the first five minutes, so keep your receipt,” I said.

The first day, my wife noticed the cat was onto her. Kitty stopped going for the light as soon as she saw the little mini-flashlight in my wife’s hand. Fortunately, Kitty quickly got unwise again, and now she’s back to skidding around corners, hopelessly hunting the Glowing Red Thing that Won’t Die.

The device lives up to its rep. Every day is a hysterical laugh fest for us dignified humans. We have to restrain ourselves from wasting too much time watching the cat go nuts pawing at nothing.

I never knew how much fun a Genuine Laser Chaser could be, or how mesmerizing it is to watch a poor little furry creature frantically try to catch something that doesn’t even exist, its paws skittering and zooming across the floor, totally bewildered by a tiny red point of light.

I said, “Our friends will come back to find their cat shivering in the corner, drooling, with glassy eyes helplessly zig zagging, chasing invisible red bugs inside its scrambled little kitty mind.”

After a few days of addictive animal-teasing hysterics, I began to ponder what it must be like for Maya devi, whose job it is to keep all conditioned beings stuck in material existence until they’re absolutely ready to go back to the spiritual world.

By her influence, we become almost helplessly attracted to things. We run after things that aren’t really there, things that have no substance—basically, the equivalent of bright spots on the kitchen floor—as if possessed.

Does Maya devi find it all amusing that we keep going for the same stuff, again and again? I don’t expect so. She’s Krishna’s material energy in person. She’s not happy to see all of us pawing at nothing. She’s significantly more cognizant and compassionate than us two-bit exploiters of less intelligent furry creatures.

She’s hoping we’ll wise up and get tired of chasing the laser.