He should open the door for me. (Our cat about me. And in general, he should know what I want him to do and do it. I suspect Luna and I are not so different there!)

1. True?
   Yes. Feels true.
2. Sure?
   No.
3. What happens when I believe that thought?
   • I want him to open the door for me. I keep meowing by the door. If he is one the same side of the door as me, I walk up to him to get his attention, and then walk over to the door again. If he is on the other door, I stay there and continue meowing.
   • I wonder if he doesn’t understand me, or if he is just ignoring me. Sometimes, I am not even sure if he is on the other side of the door. (If I am outside.)
   • I feel at his mercy. I am sometimes afraid that I won’t be let in or out, and what that may mean. I feel small in a big world.
4. Who would I be without it?
   • I would see my meowing more as a practical tool for getting somebody’s attention. If it works, fine. If it doesn’t, that is OK too. And I would only use it to the extent necessary.
   • It wouldn’t be associated with being a victim. I wouldn’t feel like a victim, even if he didn’t open the door right away.
5. Turnarounds.
   • He shouldn’t open the door for me.
     • Well, he is sometimes not home so he can’t. Or he may be doing something (on the phone, giving a Breema session) so he decides to wait.
     • I can wait. I don’t always need the door to be opened right away.
     • It helps me see my beliefs around this.
   • I should open the door for me.
     • Hm. Well, I do when I get somebody’s attention and they open the door. I can go to somebody else, if they are around.
   • I should open my thinking for me.
     • Yes, that is most true. I open my thinking to me when I find beliefs and inquire into them.