My step-mother has an ancient dog named Griffin.

He was old when they rescued him, no one is sure how old, and he simply keeps going. He has cataracts and is blind, can’t hear very well, and can’t really move very well any more. As I write this is sleeping beside my chair.

For the past few years when we would visit he mostly sleeps in the corner of the room, or in the sun outside. Content, but not particularly living.

That changed this recent visit. He has found purpose.

You see, Griffin hates cats. If he senses one he hunts, tail wagging and with boundless energy.

My parents recently rescued a cat who lives in the house, and sure enough, Griffin has rediscovered his purpose in life and chases her around the house.

She is in no danger and mostly just teases Griffin.

But that dog is the most energetic he has been in a decade, bumping into walls with his tail wagging furiously as he pursues his passion.

I hope we can all find a cat of our own.