READ THE STORY

Joe is a cat. Joe loves to do cat things. He enjoys sleeping in the sun, climbing trees, playing with string; however there are some things Joe enjoys that other cats do not. There is one thing in particular other cats enjoy that Joe does not. Joe is afraid of mice.

Joe checked over his shoulder to make sure his owner was distracted. It was in the kitchen, doing some sort of human thing- preparing food that did not smell good. If Joe was being completely honest, which he always was, the human did not even appear to enjoy the fragrant-less food when they ate it. Joe straightened his bowtie and slunk out the door. 

A little known fact of cats is when they slink off it is to join other cats. They convene and discuss their pursuits. They talk about their owners. They talk about other cats. Unfortunately, as in any society, there is a hierarchy. More unfortunately, there is also judgement. In these circles Joe is judged. And like in most societies he is judged for something silly- he is judged for his appearance. Joe is judged for his bow ties. 

Now, if the other cats were to stop and ask Joe about his neckwear, rather than talk behind his back, they would learn he wears them because they make him feel good. He likes how they look. Wearing them gives him more confidence and a sense of pride, despite what others might say. 

Just as any other day, Joe ignored the snickers and eye rolls and glares. He was accustomed to them by now. No amount of jeers or back handed compliments were going to dissuade the dawning of his ties. No. Joe strode proudly through the feline gathering knowing eyes were on him, as usual. Today, however, it seemed an unusual amount of eyes. He noticed those eyes narrow. He noticed backs arch and tails waive. He saw heads lower and gazes focus- something was wrong. Joe looked behind him to see an unwitting mouse following along. This sight was a welcome one to many cats, but as we said, Joe is afraid of mice. In horror, Joe shot five feet in the air. The other cats, first in bewilderment, then in realization, lost interest in the tiny mouse and began to cry in laughter at yet another attribute of Joe’s. Having landed, Joe hung his head. It was at this time, fortunately for him but unfortunately for the mouse, it darted away. Every cat, save for Joe, followed. 

Fiona was no ordinary mouse. Fiona knew cats were afraid of water and made her way directly toward a nearby lake. The pounce of cats closing in quickly, she mustered all the might in her little mouse body and jumped from the shore into the water. She quickly swam to an abnormally large leaf floating in the lake, and pulled herself atop. 

Charlie, a large Tabby cat, whose eyes were bigger than his stomach and whose brain was even smaller than that, bounded after Fiona, leaving all the other cats on the shore. Charlie made it several yards out into the lake before he realized what he had done. The rest of the cats stood on dry land, watching in dismay. None moved to help Charlie who was now frantically splashing in the middle of the lake. as she safely floated away, Fiona couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sorrow for her would-be hunter. The frozen cats stood watching their friend in panic, when a black streak darted between them and leapt into the water. You see, the other thing that Joe liked to do, which the other cats didn’t, was swim.  

Both now back ashore, Joe began to receive praise. Forgetting all about his bowties and all about his being afraid of mice, the other cats extolled Joe’s prowess. He had saved Charlie. He was their hero.

Joe wrung out his bowtie and began to walk away.

“Joe, where are you going??” asked Baguette, merrily.

Joe stopped and looked around in bewilderment. He finally blurt out: “My whole life you have made fun of me. Now you want me here because you needed me? Now you want to praise me? Not a single one of you moved to help your friend. Your friend who was alone and afraid. Why is that? Why didn’t you try to help? Because you were afraid. Just the way I am afraid of mice. There’s no difference between the two.” 

The cats were silent and Joe continued: “You looked at me and judged me immediately by what I wear. By how I look. It was that way from day one and every day since. None of you thought to ask me about my bowties. Not a single one of you was curious instead of judgmental. We’re all afraid… of different things. But we’re all good at different things too! We all like different things! What’s so wrong with that?…“

All of the cats cast their heads downward. Joe was right. They hadn’t taken the time to get to know Joe.

“I don’t actually like string…” offered Binx, shyly. “It’s weird and I don’t like how it moves.” 

The cats looked around at one another. 

“I wish my collar was turquoise!” yelled Carlisle. 

“I love Alabaster’s white tail!” meowed Paris.

“…. I did always admire your bowties… I was just afraid to say so because of what the group might say…” Mocha admitted. 

Charlie, still dripping wet but regaining his senses, stepped forward. 

“Joe, I think we all learned something today- and speaking for myself, but hopefully for everyone, we will try to be better in the future… And we’re sorry.” 

Joe, stone-faced, remained quiet for some time. Looking around at all of his peers he finally uttered: “all any of us can do is try.” 

From that day on the cluster of cats operated just a little bit differently and Joe kept dressing as smart as ever.