Be more like a cat. Don't care too much about what other people think.

Cats don’t care what humans think.

They don’t care if they make you happy or annoyed, if their actions inconvenience or please you. They are affectionate on their own terms, and isolationist when it suits them.

Whatever your opinion, it doesn’t affect their world in the slightest.

I’m trying to be more like a cat.

I guess it’s human nature to be concerned what other people think about you. Life is one big scenario of us holding each other up to certain standards set by us, or by commercialization, or by our culture, or by aliens, for all we know. (Who decided that those big, bug-eyed sunglasses are fashionable?)

But I’m trying to see beyond the judgments and just do what suits me. Like a cat.

And it started with singing to a dog.

My husband, stepkids and I were at the Hope Street Farmers Market in Providence one Saturday morning. We’d played in the playground and snagged a bite to eat, and for no particular reason, the “Veggie Tales” theme song popped into my head.

I haven’t watched that show in roughly two decades. But the song reared its head, and as we weaved through the crowd, I sang it, just loud enough to bombard the defenseless ears of my 7-year-old stepdaughter walking alongside me, not thinking anything of it.

Then she surprised me.

“Sing it to a stranger,” she said suddenly, grinning.

I was about to protest, when she added – “I dare you.”

Coming from a 7-year-old, a dare was more adorable than intimidating, but it made me pause.

I didn’t have to accept the dare. She’d forget about it in five minutes anyway. Why should I embarrass myself?

But as the rejection of her offer hovered on the brink of being spoken, I thought about it, and edited my answer.

“How about,” I suggested, “I sing to a dog, instead?”

She deemed this appropriate, and pointed out a large, fluffy pup sitting happily next to his owner near a bench. "That one!"

I walked over to the guy, trying to shove down the nerves creeping into my stomach. It felt like that moment before jumping off the platform of a zipline.

It was going to be weird. Probably embarrassing. "Sir, may I sing to your dog?" Yeah, it would definitely be weird.

But – who cares?

Who were any of these people crowding Lippitt Park? I'd never see them again. And if they thought I was weird — honestly, it would have no impact on my life whatsoever.

Not to mention, my stepdaughter was watching. What kind of example was I setting for her? To let my fear of other people's opinions get the best of me?

I approached the man and his dog, with my giggly girl at my side.

"Excuse me, sir?" I began. "Hi, I'm on a dare from this little one here, and I was wondering, can I sing a song to your dog?"

The guy grinned. I chuckled. My stepdaughter laughed.

And he agreed.

I knelt down with the fluffy pooch, and sang the very repetitive chorus. My husband and stepson looked on, all smiles. Some people walking by observed curiously. Finally, I finished my dare, thanked the man, and disappeared with my family into the crowd.

It was utterly ridiculous. But really, so what?

Like the time we went out to dinner and played Headbandz.

The game involves choosing a card with a word on it, which you show everyone else but yourself, and they have to help you figure out what your word is. Oh, and you wear your card stuck into a headband. (It's super fashionable.)

This was actually my fault because I chose the game. But nobody objected, so all four of us walked around Panera choosing a booth and picking up our food order — with these incredibly un-cool headbands on our heads. If any of us indulged in a smidgen of self-consciousness, we would have at least blushed.

But nope. We wore our cards proudly.

More than one employee asked us what they were, and were entertained when we explained. On our way out, even the manager told us, "You guys are totally winning at life!"

But even if she didn't think we were winning, even if no one else had gotten a kick out of our lovely headwear, it shouldn't have mattered. If that guy in the park thought I was weird for singing to his pup, so be it.

If we're doing what makes us happy and isn't hurting anyone else, may we keep at it.

Life is bigger than the opinions of others.

Just ask any cat.

Email Emely Varosky at evarosky@heraldnews.com.