Yes, our foster cat is making me a nicer person. Who knew?
We’ve got a new cat guru in our house. Three weeks ago, we officially signed up to be foster humans for the Lollypop Farm shelter. The next day, a foster plea email arrived with this guy’s photo in it.
There were nearly a dozen other cats, each needing a foster home for various reasons. We didn’t know why our hearts went out to this one in particular, but they did. Perhaps it was his appearance. He looked like bloody hell. He’d had two eye surgeries in the space of seven days—one above and one below each eye, both of which were swollen to slits.
Finally, his stitches have now come out. He came home radiating joy, free at last of the loathed plastic cone. He immediately set about exploring the house from top to bottom. His energy and appetite have gotten better each day.
He’s turning out to be a beautiful cat, too, with thick, soft fur, asymmetrical markings and dark gold eyes. However, I understand now that his appearance—for better or for worse—wasn’t what drew us to him. It was his incredibly loving nature.
Solid chocolate all the way through
I’ve affectionately teased my partner over the years by telling him he’s like a solid chocolate rabbit, unlike those chocolate Easter rabbits that turn out to be hollow when you bite their heads off. Like him, Chairman Whiskers (that’s the name the shelter gave him) is chocolate all the way through.
He was a favorite with the shelter staff. When I asked why, they told me that even when he was vulnerable and in terrible pain from his surgeries, he would come over for a neck scritch any time someone came by. One vet tech told me she’d sit with him for ten minutes at mealtimes because it helped him eat a bit more.
Being around him every day, I can feel myself becoming more open-hearted, kinder, and more patient. How could I resist such a sweet, solid presence? The more open-hearted I get, the more I want to be that way all the time. He’s making me a better person.
Staying “safe” behind a shield of reserve
Life knocks each of us around in different ways. We respond in our own way. I became reserved. I learned to hold my cards close to the chest (except when I went too far in the other direction and over-revealed.) I can be immaculately polite, but the politeness forms a shield between me and others. I feel as if I’m viewing the other person from a bit of a distance.
The Chairman, by contrast, wears his heart on his sleeve. (Or would, if he had sleeves.) He doesn’t equivocate. If he isn’t in the mood to have his head scratched, he’ll duck without apology. But if he sees his brush in my hand, he’ll grab it with both paws and rub his face on it, purring like a maniac. If he’s really happy to see me, he’ll give me a nose-to-nose kiss.
This slays me. I know, as I mentioned, that I can be reserved. Knowing that hasn’t dismantled the reserve, however. My partner has been patiently chipping away at it all these years. Now a cat is taking a loving sledgehammer to it every day.
I know, and I teach clients, that to feel safe to open yourself more fully to other people, you need first to feel the inner safety that results when you are consistently connected to your spiritual intuition. For sure, I’ve learned how to create that safety more and more often. Apparently, I still needed something industrial strength to break through…and along came this amazing being.
Repeated exposure to love
When I see the Chairman sleeping on the back of the couch, I can’t resist going over to give him a scritch under his chin. My heart opens up. I’ve noticed that I have a different effect on other people when I’m in that state.
This morning, for example, I had to return a call from the doctor’s office to reschedule my annual physical. I’m usually in “reserved, polite” mode for that kind of call. I don’t plan to be that way. It’s just my default setting.
But as the receptionist was pulling up my records, the Chairman walked into the room purring. Without thinking, I said, “Oh, here’s our foster cat!” Then I scratched his ears and talked “cat talk” to him while she worked. I couldn’t help but notice how different the rest of the call felt. The receptionist seemed friendlier and warmer, genuinely enjoying our call. I think she really was all those things. And it all started with the cat, and the way my energy shifted around him.
Shifting to appreciative observation
As I’ve watched myself being so kind, so patient, so appreciative of this cat, I’ve begun to wonder, “What would happen if I treated myself like that? How would my life be different if I focused on appreciative observation?”
Needless to say, I’ve never said to the Chairman, “Wow, guy, are you still sleeping?! Shouldn’t you be getting some work done?!” I just give him a scritch and love him and say, “Wow, sweetie, you are sleeping 22 hours a day. That eye surgery must’ve been rough.”
My old habit is to worry, or criticize myself, or to go over things in my mind, trying to control things I can’t control. It feels bad. I’ve too often allowed it to run on, because I’m used to it. Not lately, though. It’s easy to notice because I feel so happy hanging out with Duke and the cat.
In fact, the contrast is stark enough to cause spontaneous course corrections. I don’t even have to think about it. I appear to be shifting, without apparent effort, away from those long-held habits. I’m spending more time in a state of appreciative patience and curiosity. I’m treating myself (and my partner) more like I treat the Chairman, no matter what is going on.
This is a powerful positive example of HSP environmental susceptibility, a fundamental attribute of high sensitivity. I’m basking in all the love flying around between me, my partner, and our cat, and the positive environment is genuinely changing me.
How is your environment affecting you? When you are highly sensitive, even seemingly small changes can have unexpectedly positive effects.
In the meantime, I feel encouraged, imagining the kind of world we’d live in if we loved ourselves and each other the way our pets love us. That would be something.
Photo ©2025 Emily Agnew
