As I sit down to write this, I have tears in my eyes. No, they are not tears of sadness. They are not tears of joy either. They are tears of cat allergy! My wife and I had added a clause to our marriage contract that we were done with pets in the house…until our daughter moved to Australia and couldn’t take her cats with her. The basic contract of “Until death do us part†remains in effect, even the amendment requiring that I occasionally relinquish the TV remote is in force (except during football season), but we learned together that love transcends the other self-imposed restrictions on our lives, especially where the kids are concerned. Even after brushing a cat and immediately showering, my eyes are still burning…but I love my daughter anyway and maybe some of that actually rubs off on the cat (yes, pun intended).
As most cat owners will tell you, it is not possible to “own†a cat because they select you. There is a greater probability that Harry Potter’s wand would select the wrong wizard than a cat would select the wrong human. Tisha (short for Morticia) is the cat from central casting seen as the companion to Halloween broom riders in Hollywood productions and has adopted my wife as her human. Black with a distinctive white patch, and very independent, my daughter rescued her from the unfortunate status as a discarded feral kitten, introduced her to a litter box and tamed her wildness…or at least most of it. Lucky was rescued by my wife as she was driving home from work one day. Her eyes somehow found him by the side of the road where he had been hit by a car. Stopping traffic and flipping off the assholes that honked at her, she took him to the vet for emergency care. He was “lucky†to have survived the ordeal with a few missing teeth and a steel rod in one leg, hence his name. A big fluffball of cat dander toxins, he adopted me, the most allergic person he could find, to be his human after my daughter left…as a practical joke, I think. Cats do have a weird sense of humor.
I generally try to reserve writing about the personal side of myself in my personal blog which I share with my family and closest friends. Occasionally things in real life reflect very closely to the professional side of things. Beneath everyone’s “professional†façade is a lump of personal attributes that may be unseen, but are a key component of maintaining the visible side. Borrowing from an analogy used by Harold Kushner, it is like the knots and tangled threads on the back of a tapestry being the underpinnings of the orderly picture on the front. There are several cat-lessons to be learned from working and playing with the little beasties.
- Assumed obligations are often not really required. No one in my family would think less of me if I held a firm ground against the feline intrusion into the household. My colleagues would not think less of me if I kept them out of my personal sphere. Former co-workers who have become closest to me professionally over the years have somehow worked their way into the inner me and have given me new insights. Some have become lifelong friends. I am a better person for having them in my life and very thankful that I am not seen as an obligation to them.
- Sometimes it’s necessary to do unpleasant things. Brushing a long-haired cat is an extremely unpleasant thing for me to do. I’m also psychologically allergic to long project meetings with endless discussion and no agenda. Assuming that my presence is required for some reason that may be unknown to me, I participate and make a game of steering the meeting from the sidelines without trying to take charge. Often I find that my whole attitude is somehow changed when the synergy of other minds actually come up with better ideas for the group.
- Truth is more important than image. To offset my half-joking threats to “get rid of the damn cats†my wife thinks it’s funny to snap candid pictures of me interacting with them. In the world of work, posturing for power is something we learn to do early in our careers. There is some truth to gaining a relative degree of importance in order to give our words credibility, but it cannot be based on something which is not real. Fake is transparent and most people do not lie very well. Respectful openness in expression of ideas encourages others to be open as well and we all benefit from the exchange.
- Compassion for others is important. Even though I am only playing the part of a cat person, there is a genuine therapeutic aspect to petting any animal. With people, it can be more difficult to show compassion because of the need for a balanced sense of fair play. Also, if there is an aversion to asking for directions when lost, someone volunteering to give directions can be offensive. Tactfully and professionally working with unemployed job seekers and candidates for jobs can not only be personally rewarding it is making a contribution to the common good. Assisting others professionally is not the same as charity, but a sense of giving without the need for any reciprocal action is the most rewarding.
- It’s not all about me. My feline family members are alternate-species members of my family and are just as important to them as I am. My interaction with my professional community in real life and online is more realistic and rewarding for all when there is no one person who hogs the spotlight. Congratulations given to colleagues for their successes and awarding thanks for help given is a prerequisite for being truly inclusive. Giving deference to those that make a difference takes nothing from me and often it is returned generously to me without asking for it.
For a dog person the natural instinct is the opposite of being a cat person. Dogs hate cats and they are smart aren’t they? To alter ourselves and adjust to the reality of living in a diverse world, we must use a reverse personal planning model by beginning with the picture of ourselves that we want to portray and then alter our threads to make it happen. It is never about erasing the real picture of ourselves, but to weave others into our lives.