There’s a reason the words “cat” and “job stress” never appear in the same sentence. It’s because cats never suffer from it. Performance anxiety is a foreign concept to them.
But that’s not to say cats never work. Many have rewarding careers in retail as greeters. Others are in the hospitality industry as bed-hopping companions for guests at trendy B&Bs. Certain laid-back cats work in healthcare as therapy felines. And in farming, they’ve been “rodent proliferation control engineers” for centuries. However, you’ll never find cats in risky occupations like sniffing out corpses at crime scenes or nosing for bombs and drugs in airports. Dirty work – that’s for dogs.
No matter how they make a living, cats don’t fret: “Am I making people happy enough?” “Have I nabbed my quota of vermin today?”
They just do what they do and let bean-counting schmucks worry about the bottom line.
I try to write like a cat: Just sit down and start without endlessly questioning if my ideas are brilliant enough. Don’t let blank pages intimidate me. Have no fear I’ll run out of inspiration before the end.
When cats work, they find something they enjoy doing enough to let it become part of their persona. That way, they never dread or over-analyze it. As a writer, I’ve got an enjoyable job. Now I’ve just got to work at perfecting my joie de vivre.