I love cats. If I could choose a default setting for life, it might be “cat.”
I have a Maine Coon mix: fluffy, energetic, and quietly opinionated. Like many hopeful cat lovers before me, I thought, “She’s smart! She’s active! She can totally learn to walk on a leash.” It seemed like the perfect way to guarantee my daily walk.
The articles said it was possible. The videos proved it could be done. So I bought the harness, tried the treats, followed the advice.
She refused. With surprising strength, she turned her whole body into resistance. We weren’t going on walks – we were holding slow-motion protests in the yard.
I gave up.
I also have a small herd of dairy goats that I adore. Two are in training as pack goats. They’ll walk on leashes – when the conditions are just right. Not too hot. Not too cold. Not too buggy. They set the speed (slow) and stop every five yards to grab a snack, which is fine for a leisurely stroll. Not so much for focused, daily cardio.
Last week I got a puppy. He zigzags, stops to sniff things I can’t even see, and sometimes forgets we’re walking at all – but “let’s go!” gets him moving. He’s a fast learner and wired to please. Problem solved.
The lesson? You can’t turn a cat into a dog.
Working with your brain is like that. You can spend forever trying to force it into systems that just don’t fit because someone else swears they work. But real progress happens when you notice what does work for you—and build around that. It’s not giving up. It’s getting smarter.