Raggedy Anne

Today, while I was getting a cup of coffee in the break room at work, I came across a notice stuck upon the bulletin board letting everyone know of a cat up for adoption. Her name was Raggedy Anne, and she was a 5-year-old tabby. A perfect looking kitty, given the pictures.

However, there was a major caveat; Raggedy Anne was adopted once before, but had to be returned because she wouldn't get along with any other pets in the house. The bulletin made it quite clear that she absolutely needed to be the "queen of the castle."

The first thing I thought was "give me a few years, and I bet I can help make this cat actually like other cats and pets." I had to stop myself midthought when I realized how outlandish that really was--trying to alter a cat's behavior through my sheer will--and how apparently deeply is ingrained my desire to "help." Help in this case might be more of a misnomer than anything, because i'm really just trying to change a cat into the image i have of an idealized cat. "Hey cat, you might not know it, but you'd enjoy yourself more if you got along with other cats. No really! I'll help you."

In truth, the cat's just fine as it is. It really doesn't need to get along with other pets, really. All it really needs to do is meow and purr and do other cat-like things. Taken from a broader view, this is a lesson I should already know: sometimes I just need to accept things as they are rather than try to help. Let things be as they be!