You would think it verged on the impossible that any male cat, even a thoughtful one like our little shaman, Zane, could teach anyone anything about chivalry and true love and, until tonight, I would have agreed with you. Tonight was one of those rare times when my three favorite things – Amy, Zane, and my psychic gift – came together and produced this most special teaching.

I wish I could say with complete certainty that I can psychically hear Zane’s thoughts but my ability to understand what he’s trying to communicate seems to be largely the result of my simply paying attention to him and expecting him to try to express himself. I think all young cats living with humans try. No cat, however loving and smart, suffers fools gladly and their lack of patience is legendary. They soon stop trying if their attempts to interact are met by the ignor-ance of humans who are not trying to decipher their cat’s signals.

Amy and I have tried to treat Zane as a thinking being since the first moment we set eyes on him as a kitten back in May of 2001. We’ve now learned that he should have still been with his mother – eight weeks is now considered too early to separate them – and perhaps that is why he didn’t want to be picked up or held. And so we didn’t.

Zane has never been a lap cat. Living with him is like living with a noble, gentle, wise and wild animal who deigns come in his cat door to sleep and eat and come get me to go out and walk with him. It’s one of my favorite things in the world, both the walk and the fact that he’ll come get me and rub against my boots to show me he wants to go walking.

So I suit up no matter what the weather – he loves the rain and cold and tolerates the snow – in my glow in the dark hat and jacket. I also wear a headlamp whose LED’s glow either white or red. Unless I need to see something clearly I prefer to use the red light because it enables me to see Zane’s eyes and that of the many other creatures walking around our country neighborhood at night – other cats, dogs, and the occasional raccoon, possum, deer, or fox. My night vision is quite good thanks to our nightly excursions and the red light doesn’t interfere with it. And the stars are so bright here at the eastern end of Long Island, one of the few places on the east coast dark enough for a person to be able to see the Milky Way – so gorgeous!

Not so gorgeous is the fact that practically everyone we meet tells Amy and me that we are the only happily married couple they have ever known, especially since we’ve been together since 1975 and were married in 1978. We are so obviously in love with each other, including the more than occasional public display of affection (PDA), that those who meet us for the first time assume that we are in the first blush of our romance or newlyweds on their second or third marriage who’ve finally gotten in right.

We have a few theories about how we got it right the first time. We put just about everything we know about dating, mating, and relating into our book “Love, Light, and Laughter: Relationship Secrets of the Enchanted Couple,” published by RedWheel/Weiser/Conari Press. One of the few things I forgot to include was what Zane taught me tonight on our walk.

Although I’m a sensitive New Age guy, I was born in Brooklyn, NY, in the 1950’s. It was not a good time to be a sensitive guy. Like almost every male who grew up there and then, I was set upon by groups of surly teenagers from before I was even ten years old. I survived mainly by using my brains, my sense of humor, my father being a NYPD cop, and by my being big for my age. If that failed – especially the cop for a father part - I knew I was dealing with someone so stupid and dangerous that I had to defend myself as best I could and try not to hurt anyone too much – my father would have not liked that! I also defended a few unlucky people who had violence done to them but did not have my skills, size and attitude and he didn’t like that, either.

Those days are decades behind me but for Zane, like our brave soldiers in harm's way, it’s his moment-to-moment  experience to be on guard against the many critters and cars that might do him harm. Lucky for us, he is very wary of human animals so the chance of some serial-killer-in-training of a young person hurting him or worse is very small. I detest cruelty to animals and have often intervened to prevent it, restraining myself from expressing myself physically. I would not, however, restrain myself if someone harmed Zane and so I'm doubly grateful that he stays away from humans as much as possible.

Zane is quite gentle and respectful of us and allows us to cuddle and kiss him - he smells so good! Though he, like every healthy cat, is a perfect delivery system for claws and teeth, he never bites or scratches us or even anyone at the vet, where he’s known as a sweet and healthy boy.

But Zane is not so sanguine when it comes to other animals. I’ve seen him run straight at a raccoon to scare him off. The local bluejays - mean birds, no lie - give Zane room because he's taken them off the bird feeder or in mid flight when they've attacked him! I’ve seen him go rocketing out of his cat door right at an offending dog who’d wandered through our back yard, sending the dog to the ground exposing his neck in the universal animal sign of surrender. Animals are smarter and nicer than humans that way. I recall getting attacked when I was in the sixth grade by someone old enough to be in high school, getting him down and making him promise to stop if I let him up (and breath), only to have him really go to town on me once I had foolishly taken him at his word. That’s a lesson you don’t forget.

So when we’re out walking I’m often aware that though Zane has been neutered, he has not lost his male cat’s sense of territorial pride. I could have used the word “macho” but I have an issue with it. In fact, that issue is at the heart of this teaching of Zane.

My understanding of what it is to be a man is quite simple. So simple, in fact, that it is written as one sentence on the side of every Los Angeles police car, “To protect and serve.” It is a man’s job to protect those he cares about and to serve them as he sees fit, sure, but also to serve them as they ask to be served.

I certainly serve Amy and Zane. I serve Zane his food where he sits. I know, that’s spoiling him, but he enjoys it and I enjoy seeing Zane and Amy enjoy anything and everything. Life is indeed brutal and short, as Zane taught us today when he brought in a chipmunk as our Wedding Anniversary present – he usually only brings in live animals and birds to our great distress (for his captives). Sometimes they don’t make it. To serve and protect those we care about is a noble job and one that I love.

So does Zane. I was once arguing loudly with a man who had done the worst job imaginable tiling our kitchen floor. He was getting really weird – as weird as he looked – and just as the thought crossed my mind that I might have to defend myself against this nut job in burst Zane and put his little body, all 15 pounds of him, in between me and the crazy guy. He was scared, of course, just like me and every person who knows that push has, indeed, come to shove and it’s time to go Brooklyn. He couldn’t look the guy in the eye and he hid behind me but came right back. I was astonished. I was so consumed with love for Zane and surprised admiration for his courage in the face of real danger that I immediately diffused the situation and got the guy out of my house so I could pet Zane and tell Amy what a brave little man we were lucky enough to be sharing our lives with.

Zane also has a very special relationship with Amy. He curls up with her every night. He won’t go near me in the bed unless Amy is not there. He kneads her like a kitten kneads his mother. Seeing them together is one of the greatest joys in my life. I know that all is well and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. What is better than that?

So last night, when Zane came to get me for our walk, I had the psychic hit that Amy should come along with us. This has only happened a couple of times in all these years. She has always left it to me and Zane to have our special meditation time together, as she likes to work on her art at that time of the evening. It was such a beautiful night that Amy said yes to take a break, and off we went, the three of us.

Suddenly, I noticed something that was so different in Zane’s behavior that I was as shocked as I was when he came in to defend me. You see, although I say that Zane and I go walking every night, a good part of the time is spent standing around. Zane likes to sit on a couple of large decorative rocks that our neighbors have on their lawns, probably absorbing what heat they’ve stored during the day time. But I do most of my standing around in the middle of the road with my red light on my head hoping the neighbors understand what I’m doing while Zane goes walking up their driveway and all around their property, especially if they have pets. It’s like I have the genetic propensity to be a constable on patrol (cop) like my father, walking my street with my partner, officer Zane, checking every house.

Only tonight Zane didn’t check any houses. In fact, his paws didn’t once leave the asphalt of the road. I had seen that he was happy that Amy was joining us. But what I realized after he very uncharacteristically walked past two of his favorite houses was that he was following Amy with a purpose. He did not take his eyes off her for one minute during the entirety of our walk! Our little warrior cat was guarding her as best he could and I am very glad that no animals decided to challenge us on our walk, for their sakes.

To protect and serve. Here was this little cat showing me and everyone who was willing to do the work of paying attention to him what being a man is all about. Too many men pervert the notion of being macho and, instead of using their defensive skills to protect and serve those they love, selfishly turn this noble energy into aggression against the very people they should be serving and protecting. It’s a true perversion of a most basic and noble human attribute. Or should I simply call it a basic attribute of all caring beings, like our Mr. Zane.

I know a little bit about martial arts, mainly from books and, from when I was in my twenties and my friend Jay Abramson, a karate black belt sparred with me/beat me up to stay in shape while he lived with me in Brooklyn before going into the Navy as a carrier pilot. I have even used my size and attitude to do security work during my time in the movie business, quoting the masters to keep the black belts from killing each other on the set of “The Last Dragon,” doing the security for the filming of the movie “A Chorus Line,” and even being Michael J. Fox’s bodyguard during the filming of “The Secret of My Success.” Every martial artist aspires to be like a cat because they are the epitome of grace, speed, and accuracy when striking. And no animal comes close to them when it comes to the economy of motion. If they knew about Zane, he’d be the cat that they’d all aspire to be like, as I do. So next time some jerk calls you a pussy, just smile and say “Thank you.”