Red cats and burning bridges. A life's lesson.

By Robbins Richardson

Life teaches us lessons on a regular basis. This week's lesson is about parting shots-- burning bridges, or revenge, or sucker punches. It's so easy to slam the door on your way out, to blast an email, cuss someone out and hang up the phone -- it's safe, and satisfying, just spew and exit. Every so often I relearn why this is a loser way to act. Directly or indirectly,  I was reminded again,  through animals, why there is such a thing as manners.

My red cat
I was really ticked off when I was on the phone with the cat rescue interviewer. I thought things had gone south irreparably--the lady seemed unreasonable and nothing I said helped. I wanted to lash out, and to give this lady a piece of my mind about her standards, and her closed-mindedness, and her rudeness, and her willingness to put her own views above the cat's welfare. But I didn't. I restated my interest in the cat, and in working with her, and I expressed a optimism I didn't feel. I was polite, but felt righteous anger that ate at me for days.

This past Saturday I met the rescue lady -- "dragon lady" in my imagination--in person. The rescue lady was physically handicapped, slight, and birdlike in her movements. Her hair was badly dyed black, and partly because of that she looked pale. It was written in her eyes -- this woman had not had an easy life.

As we sat down, I noticed she had a stack of single-spaced, double-sided instructions for cat care. All that information was for us. She patiently told us about her cat care regimen, complete with anecdotes to illustrate her points, and for two hours we listened while she covered every topic. This woman loves cats beyond all reason, and every story, every anecdote about cats she had placed, and the cats that had been hurt or injured as a result of poor care, she kept close to her heart. She has fifteen cats, and she is devoted to them. What I thought was, this woman is alarmingly like me -- but she's about cats, I'm about horses. I was so thankful I had held my tongue.

I thought Bob would bristle at having to sit through her soliloquy -- believe me she was not telling us anything we didn't know. But when I looked at him he was nodding and absorbed in her words. When she left, he said "I'm glad we support that group. They really care." One thing about Bob, he is a good judge of people and their motivations. He saw what I saw.


The lesson
Again and again, I learn that when you want to be impulsive you should wait it out. You have to give people a chance, and at least try to understand their view.  An email flame, the putdown, the going-behind-the back, is just a sign of someone who wants to make their point without having to expose themselves to alternative views. It's a giant middle finger that says I'm the only perspective that matters here. It's ego.

This was a special lady, and I was so wrong about her, and I'm so happy to be wrong. And now, because of her, I have an orange cat that I'll appreciate even more because she reminded me of how precious these animals are. Thanks rescue lady.