So I have this cat.
Yeah, I’m sure a lot of crazy stories have started that way. But hopefully this post won’t venture into crazy cat lady territory. Anyway, I have this cat. And this cat has this lizard. It’s not a real lizard – just one of those wriggly rubber ones. It started out very nice. But she’s played with it for a month or two, and so now it looks like this:
Reptile lovers, you may want to avert your eyes.
The funny thing is, she’s most interested in this lizard when it’s out of her reach. If it’s just sitting there on the ground shedding blue mutilated rubber scraps, she could care less. But if you take this lizard – or maybe the term lizard carcass would be more appropriate – and set it up on a doorknob or drawer handle above her head – she’ll go berserk. She’ll pace, jump, and wail until she has either secured her lizard or someone takes it down for her. Then she’ll shake it halfheartedly a few times and abandon it again. The lizard is only worth getting when it’s a struggle. Or at least, that’s how it works in her little cat brain.
The thing is, I think we all have our lizards. If something seems too easy, or we take it for granted, we don’t care about it. But if someone sets something right out of your grasp, you strive towards it. How many times have you set out to prove some jerk wrong after they told you “You’ll never win that contest” or something to that effect? The impossible, or nearly so, is the best way to spur a person into action. So find a lizard up on some high shelf and work your way to it. It’ll be worth more than the ones lying on the ground.
And if this whole extended metaphor has confused you beyond belief… the blue headless lizard will come for you. On his leg stumps. Slowly. But he will come.