All I want in life is to pet my dog and cat. After that, all I

The writer and humorist Cazzie David once declared with honesty and wit: “All I want in life is to pet my dog and cat. After that, all I want to do is post photos of them. Mostly because they're the cutest things ever, but also because I don't have to worry about how ugly I look in the photo.” At first, these words may seem lighthearted, a jest born of the age of cameras and social media. Yet behind their humor lies a wisdom that touches on love, simplicity, and the eternal human search for comfort in creatures and in laughter.

When she says, “all I want in life is to pet my dog and cat,” she places affection above ambition. In this act of stroking fur, she reveals a truth the ancients knew well: the heart does not long for monuments or wealth, but for companionship and peace. To pet a dog or cat is to partake in a ritual older than empires, where man and beast exchange trust, warmth, and comfort. It is in these small moments that life’s meaning often rests—not in crowns, but in quiet affection.

Her desire to “post photos of them” speaks to another eternal truth: the wish to share joy. In every age, humans have sought to tell stories of the creatures they love, whether through cave paintings, myths, or portraits. In the modern world, the photograph replaces the chisel and the brush. By sharing these images, she is not boasting, but offering her companions as symbols of delight to the world. Her dog and cat become ambassadors of her love, carrying her laughter into the hearts of others.

The self-effacing jest—“because I don’t have to worry about how ugly I look in the photo”—adds a layer of vulnerability. Here she names the burden of self-image, a shadow borne heavily in an age of mirrors and screens. By shifting the gaze away from herself and onto her beloved animals, she finds freedom from judgment. This, too, is wisdom: for the purest love is not self-centered, but outward-facing, a celebration of another’s beauty rather than one’s own appearance.

History gives us echoes of this wisdom. The Roman poet Martial once wrote of a small dog named Issa, praising her as more precious than gold, more delightful than a jewel. He recorded her habits, her innocence, her charm, and in doing so, elevated her above his own vanity. Issa’s beauty became his subject, and through her, he expressed not only affection but his own humanity. So too does Cazzie David, when she lifts her dog and cat above herself, choosing their loveliness as the image worth preserving.

The origin of her words lies in the collision of ancient truths with modern anxieties. Humanity has always loved animals and found solace in them. But in our time, where the lens of the camera often feels harsh and judgment unforgiving, these companions become both shield and source of joy. They remind us that love is not about appearances, but about presence, loyalty, and warmth. To post them instead of herself is to declare: let love, not vanity, be my offering to the world.

The lesson is profound: seek joy in the simple, love in the loyal, and beauty in what is beyond yourself. Do not let the weight of self-image crush you, nor the illusions of appearance dictate your worth. Instead, turn your heart outward—toward your companions, your friends, your loved ones—and share their beauty with the world. In doing so, you will find freedom from self-doubt and delight in the abundance around you.

Practical action follows naturally. Spend time with the creatures who bring you peace. If you feel weary of judgment, let their presence remind you of unconditional love. Share your joy with others, not through the perfection of your own image, but through the beauty of what you cherish. In this way, you not only find relief for yourself, but you give others permission to laugh, to love, and to see beauty beyond the mirror.

Thus, the words of Cazzie David—“All I want in life is to pet my dog and cat”—become more than humor. They become a teaching: that life’s deepest treasures are not in grandeur or in perfect appearances, but in love freely given, in beauty shared without fear, and in the laughter that rises from companionship. To future generations, let this be remembered: joy is found not in how the world sees you, but in how you see and love the world.