There was herd of about eight of them.  Eight large deer prancing across the road, through the neighbors side yard and quickly dashing into the woods to the right of where I was walking.  I was mesmerized by the cadence of the white fluffy tails as they were dashing left and right to take refuge in the sun~blocked vault of trees.  It took, at first, my attention away from the two fawns taking up the rear.  They proceeded to follow only as far as the open yard, and then stopped, as if they finally realized that myself and my son’s dog were watching them.

I was amazed at how curious their little faces seemed to be, as they studied these two odd creatures that the adults had seemed frightened of.  Though curious, they were statue~ like for a moment.  Fear, it had to be fear.  They just hadn’t truly learned it yet.  They were just reacting to what the adults sudden movements invoked.  But they obviously were not completely buying into it.  Perhaps it was just questionable fear then that caused them to freeze in place.

The four of us stood in curiosity for a few moments, but then I decided to slowly move on as to not stir any fear into them.  As I left, I kept turning to look back, gauging if worry would begin to disrupt the calm curiosity in them.  It hadn’t.  In fact, I walked to the top of the cul-de-sac and returned five minutes later to find them serenely roaming within the same area.

This entire scene had me speculating about where and when we lose our child like sense of adventure and curiosity.  Well, if we take notes from what I just saw transpire with that herd of deer, it seems it would be from warnings given by the adults.  Those fawns were wide eyed and ready to explore who we were;  the adults ran for the hills.

Ever heard the saying, “curiosity killed the cat”?  Why must it kill the cat?  I would think if he never has the curiosity to learn something, it is lack of knowledge that could kill him.  Yes, he can land on all fours when falling or jumping, but wouldn’t curiosity cause him to wonder at what height is it still a non-suicidal feasible choice to do so?  Okay, maybe not the best possible scenario, especially if he tries to push the limits.  Maybe he could just be curious enough to ask around.  But then again, wasn’t it curiosity in the first place that caused him to climb and then realize his talented landing styles.  (We’ll just let the argument of limits, and finding them, be relative)

But I do have to ask again?  Who or what squelches that curiosity and why?  Why do we allow it?  Why do we do it?  Why do we let others fears endanger our curiosity?  Especially when we can learn, obtain, and live in such wonder when we are curious.  Life is so much more enjoyable when I step outside my door to explore.  Especially when I let that little girl curiosity take hold again.

But if you feel the need to hold onto the belief that curiosity did and will kill the cat, let me give you this one piece of news.  Perhaps you knew of this little tidbit.   I certainly hadn’t until today.  But there is a rejoinder missing from our little curiosity phrase.  It actually goes like this:

Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.

So, I say go ahead and live like you got nine lives.

Be curious.

Let no one be your kill joy.

Question to ponder:

Isn’t teaching the  mindset that curiosity killed the cat, provoking fear that ultimately kills curiosity?   (Then it just becomes a slow, boring death for the cat)