People tend to think of cats as generally contented as long as they have plenty to eat and get their usual 18 hours of daily shut-eye. But half the time Zak, my seven-month-old ragdoll, tells me that he’s bored stiff and wants to go out and look at the sky and smell the air and run around. He looks at me several times a day with an expression that says, “Are you kidding me? You’re serious? This is my life, just sitting around and plotzing?” And so we go out. A lot. We’ve been to a certain Indian restaurant on La Brea a couple of times. Zak is like a dog with a fairly high IQ. He’s totally cool sitting in a moving car — he actually likes staring out the rear window as we buzz around. Sometimes I’ll take him with me while shopping at Pavillions or getting gas or whatever. Last weekend I took him to an afternoon lunch at a friend’s place and he spent a couple of hours roaming around a huge back yard. Loud cars freak him out but he loves staring at people and generally absorbing new aromas and environments. He really, really doesn’t like sitting around. Like me his philosophy is “life is short.” He doesn’t need to intellectually know that — he just instinctually knows this is the only attitude worth having. A regular “go for the gusto” type.