I recently took two of my cats to the vet for their annual check-ups – one of our boys, grey with faded strips, eleven pounds, and our little girl, all white, green eyes, and only six pounds fully grown. The veterinarian, for whom I have much respect and confidence, looked at our grey boy first. After gently removing him from his carrier, weighing him, looking inside his ears, and listening to his respiratory track (he has asthma), he delivered a positive review of health. Then he opened the door of the carrier our little girl was in and there she was. I’ve seen his reaction before. Even my friends that are allergic to cats, the friends that say they are afraid of cats, hold a special affection for Marshmallow. “What a beautiful little girl, she’s so delicate, just like a kitten, isn’t she sweet, she seems so happy…” and on it went as he cooed and kissed her on the forehead.
As a proud parent of three cats adopted from a rescue agency, I feel it is my responsibility to love all of my fur children equally, unconditionally, regardless of their charming antics and mischievous habits – no one else seems to feel the same sense of obligation.
Marshmallow is a beneficiary the beauty premium – attractive people, and I’m sure it applies to cats, have an advantage. Your employer, as those that respond to Marshmallow, will make judgments about your appearance. Looks matter. Taking time to meticulously dress for work isn’t vanity. Professionalism isn’t limited to your behavior and performance; it includes your appearance.