It's not hard to be nice, people.

When I was a university student, I worked part time for a year delivering pizzas, pasta, garlic bread and soft drinks for a large chain restaurant (being a girl, the tips were great). I was quite good friends with the other staff, and we’d hang out in our free time listening to music, seeing bands and drinking. The manager, head kitchen guy and I were probably the closest of friends there, but we all got on very well. Or so I thought.

Over a whisky one night, the kitchen guy told me how the kitchen hand had been talking about me behind my back. This was a surprise to me. The kitchen hand seemed like a lovely girl – she was friendly, happy, smart, physically gorgeous and understandably popular. She was quite young (maybe 16 years old, compared with my mature 20 years), but we chatted easily. Apparently, one night over a post-work ciggie, she’d told him that she didn’t like me because I was too nice. No one could really be that nice, she said.

Wow.

Really?

I didn’t have a comeback for this. And it’s something that’s always stuck with me. I know I’m not a horrible person, but I wouldn’t say that I’m especially or unrealistically nice (actually, most of my friends are a lot more thoughtful, generous and kind than I am). I wondered if anything I was saying or doing was inadvertently coming across as insincere, but I was pretty sure I was just being me. I couldn’t be more sincere than that. Then I came to wonder how it is that someone could have such low expectations of their friends. Shouldn’t friends be nice to each other? Actually, shouldn’t people just be nice to each other, whether or not they know each other?

Back in the day, being nice was sometimes seen as a negative trait to have, a weakness – almost an insult. Nice girls or guys finished last. They didn’t get ahead in work or life. They were nerdy, unpopular, used and down trodden. They didn’t (usually) get lucky in love, or get laid. In fact, nice girls shouldn’t get laid until they’re married (but that’s a whole other blog post). And who hasn't fallen for a bad boy/girl who lived by the motto “treat ‘em mean, keep ‘em keen” at least once?

  

Now I have a few more grey hairs (carefully dyed red), it seems much more accepted that you can be confident, assertive, successful, popular and nice. These traits do not have to be mutually exclusive. In fact, being nice can actually help you to be more personally and professionally successful, and have more good friends. Given the choice, wouldn't you prefer to work with or for a nice person? Wouldn't you rather hang out with someone who was nice to you? You can still stand up for yourself and others and be nice – it’s all in the delivery. And being nice makes it a whole lot easier to meet someone, fall in love and make it work. 

With all the bad news reported, it’s pretty safe to say that we need more nice people, and more love, in the world. I light up with gratitude and love when other people are nice to me or someone else. I get that warm, fuzzy, goosebumpy feeling. Sometimes I even get a little teary. And being nice doesn’t have to be selfless – it gives me joy and peace to see people’s reactions when I do something nice for them. It’s a win–win feel-good situation.

Being nice to someone – even just smiling at them – can improve their mood and day. It might also inspire them to be nice to someone else, who might then be nice to someone else, and so on. In this way, you don’t just affect the person you’re nice to, but also the people they come into contact with. It can create a beautiful snowball or ripple effect.

And the best bit about being nice? It isn’t hard and doesn’t necessarily cost you any money. Smile at a stranger who is walking past you – or, God forbid, sitting near you on the train. Ask the cashier in the supermarket how their day is – and listen to their reply. Let a car pull out in front of you, and wave thanks to drivers who let you pull out in front of them. Hold the door open for someone walking behind you. Take your neighbour some surplus fruit, vegetables or flowers from your garden if you have one, or just say hello to them next time you see them. Pat the dog or cat who approaches you (if they look friendly). Leave your scraps of bread out for the birds. The opportunities to be nice are endless. 

Being nice doesn’t have to take much thought or effort, but can be life changing for you and the person you’re nice to, and the people who later cross their path. What’s not to like about that?

Big love.

Wow. Another year has almost passed without my posting here. Time flies when you're studying and working full time, being pregnant, renovating, and learning how to be a (relatively) responsible and loving parent.

To get the ball rolling again, here's a photo of Bella keeping warm on a cold winter's day. Modems make handy heaters.

About Bella

We adopted Bella, who was 4.5 years old at the time, from the Cat Protection Society of Victoria (CPS). These people do a stirling job at caring for all sorts of cats, from week-old kittens to the more mature, retiring types; from strays and abandoned cats to those who are sadly given up due to illness, death, moving or financial problems.

Bella's story is sad, but not the saddest I've heard. Her owners had four cats. They gave up all of them when the woman became pregnant and felt she couldn't care for them and a baby. Bella and her brother, and two other cats (brothers from another litter), were handed in to the lovely CPS. The two brothers were soon snapped up. Bella's brother was also in demand because he was a beautiful, sociable cat, but the CPS kept declining offers of adoption for him alone. They hoped to find Bella and him a new forever home together.

The only problem was that Bella was shy. Painfully, off-puttingly, awkwardly shy. She'd cower in the corner under a blanket or run away from whomever approached her, so no one could get to know her and see how beautiful and loving she is. No one wanted her because she seemed so timid and difficult. I think she had a broken heart (and abandonment issues). Eventually the CPS rehoused Bella's brother alone, and Bella stayed with them. For more than a year.

I saw Bella online and fell in love with her big green eyes. I visited her almost weekly for two months. Each time she'd hide or run away from me. I realised how much work would be involved in adopting her and didn't think she would be a good fit for our home, because we were at work all day and she'd need company and security. So, I made it my mission to find her a home.

I tried to convince other people to adopt her, including our retired neighbours, my boy's family and my family, but had no luck. Not even my parents would take her (and they've adopted loads of cats and dogs in need over the years).

I've heard that you don't choose a cat, it chooses you. On one of my last attempts to win my mum over, I took my parents to visit Bella at the CPS. Bella had been moved into a cage inside, where kittens and sick cats were kept, to give her some peace and quiet (probably from the kids that chase the cats in the cages outside). I opened her cage and she cautiously came over to me. I put out my hand slowly. Bella let me scratch her ears and chin, then rolled over to let me scratch her belly. Her motor started. The cage was the same height as my upper body, and she came closer and head butted my face in a clumsy kiss. We played with some feathers on a stick, and she chased them happily up and down the mesh walls. Then she head butted me again. It was decided.

My big-hearted boy eventually caved (with a big list of demands of his own to even things out) and let me bring Bella home the day after our engagement party. He was the first to let her into bed with him, despite being allergic to her.

Bella took a little while to come out of her shell, but we bribed her with cheese and she was soon making herself at home…

Snuggling with my boy (the day after we got her!).

On the bed.                                                              

In the bed.











On my head on the bed.

Under the blankets.

Under the rug.

On the cushions.

On my preggy belly.

On my shoulder while I breastfeed Little Red.

Helping me study and work.

Supervising me cooking from on top of the microwave on top of the fridge.

Smooching with our other cat, Indi.

Bella is not the cat we thought we were getting. She is loud, demanding, quietly confident, obedient and clingy. She is the most loving and affectionate cat I have known. She waits patiently for me to have a minute to myself with a cup of tea so she can climb onto my lap, crawl up my chest and snuggle under my chin, head butting my face as she cuddles in. She nuzzles her way into dressing gowns and jumpers, and under blankets. She comes when she's called. She gently sniffs and smooches Little Red, and isn't deterred by her cries. She never wanders far from us. She no longer hides from strangers (especially if they have cheese). And she always looks at us with absolute adoration.

It just goes to show what difference a little love (and cheese) can make.