Once upon a time, in the tall building where we lived, a stray cat appeared. My son felt pity for the little wanderer and said, “Let's feed it, Dad.”

But I gently shook my head and told him, “In the long run, if we rush to give food to a stray, it may forget how to survive on its own. That is why, my dear, the Kyocera Philosophy teaches us in Rule Forty-Nine: ‘A small kindness may turn into a great harm.’ And then I shared with him the tale of the old man and the wild ducks.

Yet, in our neighborhood, there were still kindhearted neighbors who could not resist feeding the cat. And so, day after day, the little cat learned to wait at the gate—morning and evening—for food to arrive. But with this came new troubles: scraps left uneaten, morsels dragged about in tiny jaws, and soon the ground grew dirty.

My son began to ask, “Why is the ground so messy? Why don't the neighbors who feed the cat clean up afterward?” Even the building security guard would sigh and mutter, “Which family keeps feeding it? That's why the place is always untidy.”

At last, my children came to understand why their father had not agreed to give food from our home so freely. For true kindness is not always giving what is easy—it is doing what is best. And so we decided together: instead of feeding the cat ourselves, we would ask the kind security guard to call the rescue service, so that the stray might be properly cared for, and live safely ever after.

If we rush to give food to a stray, it may forget how to survive on its own.