Brave heart

For some strange reason that she never tells us about, Small Cat has an odd way of dealing with things that are new and potentially – to her little mind – threatening. When the front door bell rings and she knows (with finely honed catly instinct) that it is not one of us, she scuttles from wherever she is at that point in time and leaps on to a chair at the dining table. Hiding under the tablecloth, she peers out to see what or who is asking for entry, her big eyes circular and her ears set back in alarm. Once the visitor has come and gone, she will cautiously hop off the chair, sometimes persuaded by our coaxing, and cautiously investigate any traces of the person who has come and gone.

Over the months that Small Cat has been with us (or we have been hers), she has become rather braver, even though she has her moments of determined and single-minded scuttle to positions under cover. Yesterday, for instance, she emerged from her haven to take a closer look at the piles of plastic and cardboard that the electricians – who were there to do some work in the house – had brought in. And that is not all; she has been closely monitoring the work of the gardener as he repots and prunes the plants, she supervises the maid doing the dusting every morning and insists on checking the toes of a family friend, never mind that he believes that he is allergic to cats.

Small Cat’s bravery does not stretch too far. When I had been away for a week or so and came back with bags and baggage, she took one look at me and my suitcase and fled, tail low, back low, ears low, apprehensions high. It was a while before she would deign to accept my advances, and stayed at a ‘safe’ distance watching with round eyes before she suddenly realised it was me, the person who gave her dinner and cleaned her catbox. Then she was her usual mad self, leaping out at me in her much-loved ambushes, following me around the house as I got things done in the morning and demanding a cuddle when she felt the need for one.

But we all have fears and are never sure how to deal with them. I have spoken of how I knew that there were no lions under my bed, but was too afraid to look to see if there were or not, because I was sure that they would get me if they were seen. So I spent many irrational years of my life not doing what could have saved me all that anguish, just because I was afraid to. In the same way, I know people who will not step on cracks in the sidewalk, because something nasty would happen to them. And I know that few of them have read about how Christopher Robin would hop over the pavement to make sure that the bears at the zoo didn’t get him!

A wise woman once told me that you should confront your fears so that you can see how small and silly they are. I have often taken her advice, whether it is an interview I am dreading or a sure knowledge that something is going very wrong in my life. It has usually been true that the fear is real and needs to be handled with a great deal of courage, fortitude and determination, some support from those who care about you and who matter and a whole lot of chutzpah. Just like Small Cat shows when she has got over the first instant alarm reflex.