What I Understood Too Late

Chloe arrived at our sanctuary after her owner had called one day to tell me about her.

She was restless.
She acted too energetic.
Unfortunately, her owner said that she could no longer manage these things.

This made Chloe the perfect candidate for our sanctuary (we specialize in behavioral and health-related issues), as I’d labeled her behaviorally challenged.

I didn’t know much about Chloe at that time. All I knew was what her owner had told me.

Upon arrival, Chloe didn’t appear hyper.

Instead, she looked scared.

Once inside her crate, she sat there just shivering. She was scared of us and her new environment. She needed time.

Not once did we force ourselves into her space. Instead, we sat near her and waited for her to decide we were safe. We were also waiting for her to act like the cat that her former owner had described her as being.

After some time, Chloe started relaxing. A week later, we let her into the general population to mingle with the other cats who called our sanctuary home.

Then I Met the Cat Behind the Label

Once she was a part of our sanctuary’s family, we started seeing the real Chloe. She wasn’t the cat we’d been warned about. Instead, she was an energetic kitten who just wanted someone to play with. She was a kitten who approached life like she needed a friend with whom to share everything.

Occasionally, she’d get the zoomies. Honestly, these were no different than other kittens. The only difference with Chloe was she invested her whole self into playing, and she wanted everyone to join her. This was her then, and this is still her today.

There are times when Chloe will run through the sanctuary, randomly smacking the other cats along her way. Nails are safely tucked away. It’s her way of telling them that she’s officially starting a new game of tag.

This isn’t Chloe trying to hurt anyone. It’s simply her way of trying to figure out who wants to play with her.

At other times, she’ll plop down in front of a human, roll over, show you her belly, and anxiously wait for you to understand the assignment. She wants belly rubs.

Maybe Chloe Really Is “A Lot”

In the past, I thought that it was important for us to see Chloe really isn’t a difficult cat. However, that’s not really the case.

Chloe is a lot.

She wants to find another cat who’s willing to play with her. She wants someone with enough energy to keep up.

There are also times when she’ll try to follow us out the door. Occasionally, we’ll take her with us on a leash. She loves exploring, but she isn’t an outdoor cat.

Occasionally, you’ll find her rolling around on the cat tree. She does it in such a way that I find myself wondering if she’s actually read the manufacturer’s instructions.

By no means is Chloe a shy, quiet cat who you find lying around a house, blending into the background. Instead, she has opinions, energy, and needs that sometimes make me pause and think, Girl, you are a lot. The difference is I don’t think being a lot means being too much. Those aren’t the same thing.

The Parts of Chloe’s Story I’ll Never Know

There are times when I wonder about Chloe’s past, what she was like in the first few weeks of her life. For some reason, she doesn’t like her neck being touched. If you reach for it, she’ll lower her head and try to dodge you.

This has caused me to wonder what happened to her. Did someone grab her by her scruff because she was being too energetic? Were they tired of her getting into things? Was she simply being a kitten?

The part that’s uncomfortable for me lies in the unknowing.

I can’t ask Chloe, nor can I go back in time. I’ll never know what happened to her in that apartment, and I don’t want my suspicions to become facts for no other reason than this is the only explanation that makes any sense to me.

Maybe Chloe was mistreated, or maybe she wasn’t. There could be a number of reasons why her neck is so sensitive. Her previous owner may have been overwhelmed by her needs. She may not have realized what young, energetic kittens require. Any number of these things could be true.

We Fill in the Blanks

The part of Chloe’s story that sticks with me is how easy it is to villainize someone when you only know the outcome.

This doesn’t mean you should excuse someone for giving up a kitten simply for being “too energetic.” However, it does make sense for a person to reach the point when their pet’s needs feel like they’re simply too much.

Understanding and agreeing are not the same thing.

Empathy also doesn’t require me to pretend like nothing was wrong with this situation. It actually requires something much harder from me. It requires me to admit that I don’t know the whole story.

This is something cats are continuously reminding me of. As humans, we constantly interpret their behaviors. We deem them as being any number of things. They’re too aggressive, mean, broken, feral, difficult, or any number of other words.

Cats never tell us that these aren’t the right words. They can’t explain that they bit you because they’re scared, or that they’re hiding because they feel overwhelmed. There’s no way for them to explain the reason they don’t want touched somewhere or what happened to them before they arrived at our sanctuary.

This leaves us to fill in the blanks. Sometimes we’re correct. Other times, we’re wrong. Most of the time, we probably think we know much more than we actually do.

I’ve Been Called Difficult, Too

Chloe has also made me think about the times when I, too, was called difficult. This is because I’m known to speak my mind bluntly. When people are rude or ignorant to me, I can become quite angry quite quickly. I have to work hard so that anger doesn’t become another person’s problem.

I share something in common with Chloe here. I know what it’s like for my behavior to become the most visible part of me. Since then, I’ve also learned how important it is to understand that the reason behind my behavior doesn’t make it automatically permissible.

When my anger gets the best of me, someone may think I’m difficult. Them knowing why I reacted as I did doesn’t automatically erase my reaction’s effect. I must own that. At the same time, the person needs to understand that the word “difficult” isn’t the only descriptive word they should use when referring to me.

“This Is Difficult” Is Not the Same as “You Are Difficult”

This is Chloe’s gift to me. She’s taught me there’s a difference between saying, “This behavior is difficult for me,” and saying, “This person/animal is difficult.”

Chloe’s previous owner may have been telling the truth in that Chloe was too much for her. Now I’m left wondering what happened after she reached this conclusion. Did she understand that Chloe’s personality was fixed and it’s up to us to know what she needs?

What Chloe needed was a playmate to give her an outlet for her energy. She needed the patience and time to mature. During that time, she needed someone who was willing to watch her actions instead of judging her behavior.

The Cat Doesn’t Have to Become Someone Else

This doesn’t mean Chloe is perfect, nor does it mean that all of her behaviors are acceptable. I’m sure not everyone would want to live with her. There are still times when I need to redirect her. However, I’ve stopped asking her to become a different cat and started understanding who she is.

Maybe this is why I call myself a difficult cat, too. It’s not that being difficult is an excuse. There are simply some times when the label comes before the story. The behavior is seen, then interpreted. We then build the rest of the story based on this conclusion.

All I Can Do Is Watch Her Now

Unfortunately, I’ll never know Chloe’s side. I’ll never know exactly what happened before she arrived at our sanctuary. All I can do is watch who she is now as she races through the sanctuary, seeking someone to play with.

As her paw comes down on another cat, without any claws out, she’s extending an invitation. It’s up to the other cat whether or not to accept. Chloe keeps going until she grows tired and decides to flop down and give her belly to a human instead.

Chloe doesn’t want to explain who she is. She simply wants to be seen for being herself and not the cat that someone describes or I expect. All she wants is to be herself.

What Cats Have Taught Me About Not Knowing

Maybe the real lesson cats have taught me is that even though they can’t share their side of the story with me, I don’t always need to know. Maybe they’re reminding me that I don’t need to understand everything.

Empathy has nothing to do with deciding who’s telling the truth. Instead, it has everything to do with leaving room for yourself to believe that the truth is much more than you already know.