Kids are like dogs, teens are like cats

Regular readers of my col­umn know that one of my most common themes is that you not only need help from above in managing your life and kids but you really need a sense of humor. Over the years, sever­al of you have sent me the following essay. I’ve used it before and want to share it again. As usual, I put on my editor hat and took a few liber­ties with it.

“I just realized that while little children are dogs — loy­al and affectionate — teen­agers are cats. “It’s so easy to be a dog owner. You feed it, train it, boss it around. It puts its head on your knee and gazes at you as if you were a Rembrandt painting. It bounds indoors with enthusiasm when you call it.

“Then around age 13, your adoring little puppy turns into a big old cat. When you tell him to come inside, he looks amazed, as if wondering who died and made you emperor.

“Instead of dogging your footsteps, he disappears. You won’t see him again until he gets hungry. Then, he pauses on his sprint through the kitchen, long enough to turn his nose up at whatever you’re serving, swish his tail and give you an aggrieved look until you break out the tuna, again.

“When you reach out to ruffle his head, in that old affectionate gesture, he twists away from you, then gives you a blank stare, as if trying to remember where he has seen you before.

“You, not realizing that the dog is now a cat, think some­thing must be desperately wrong with him. He seems so antisocial, so distant, sort of depressed. He won’t go on family outings. Because you’re the one who raised him, taught him to fetch, and stay and sit on command, you as­sume that you did something wrong. Flooded with guilt and fear, you redouble your ef­forts to make your pet behave.

“Only now you’re dealing with a cat, so everything that worked before now produces the opposite of the desired result. Call him, and he runs away. Tell him to sit, and he jumps on the counter. The more you go toward him, wringing your hands, the more he moves away.

“Instead of continuing to act like a dog owner, you must learn to behave like a cat own­er. Put a dish of food near the door and let him come to you. But remember that a cat needs your help and your af­fection, too. Sit still, and he will come, seeking that warm, comforting lap he has not entirely forgotten. Be there to open the door for him.

“One day your grown-up child will walk into the kitch­en, give you a big kiss and say, ‘You’ve been on your feet all day. Let me get those dishes for you.’ Then you’ll realize your cat is a dog again.”

We, parents of teenagers, must sharpen or rekindle our sense of humor and remember the research that shows a hearty laugh every day banishes depression, increases circulation and elevates natural endorphins. Laughing works for teenagers, too; just the act of smiling can lighten a sour mood. Remind your kids and yourself that even if you don’t feel like smiling, go ahead and smile, anyway. Remember that old nursery song, “If you chance to meet a frown ...” Turn that frown upside down and smile that frown away!