Why I like Animals more than Humans

I’ve always been an animal lover – since I was little.  My parents have pictures of me in diapers, cavorting with a beautiful white kitty.  The legend goes that I and this intrepid hunter would sit in a prime window and catch flies together.  Apparently this predator taught me to hunt and eat these insects.  And talk is that I got pretty damn good at snatching those critters out of the air.  Alfie, I think his name was.  I’m still a fly killer, although I’ve switched weapons from grubby toddler fingers to a stealth swatter.  Ya gotta upgrade in this technology laden world, right?  

My point is that I have an affinity for animals.  I relate more with them than my own kind.  There is no subterfuge with a cat – they’re apathetic to my existence, there’s no middle-ground.  With a dog – if I love them, they’ll love me back ten-fold.  My son has accused me of loving our four legged friends more than I love him, but he knows that’s not true – simply an easy button to push.  Although, if it needs to be said, I do love that particular human more than is polite.  When I was younger, I wasn’t discouraged from this behavior and we had companions and family members of many kinds.  I think the only time I saw my father cry before I was 20 was when he carried our little beagle, “Little Bit” up the road after he was hit.  The bond created with these friends has sustained me in many ways.  I wrote about my boy, Scooter in an essay last year and posted it on my blog.  I haven’t written in so long because I was in mourning for a particular girl named Lucy, who I lost when we moved to Arkansas.  I still love and miss her, but I am finding my voice again.  

Happy trails to all, and please, if you can, share a bit of kindness to a shelter, a friend going through a loss of a fur baby, or just share a post on social media for an organization trying to find homes for those who have no voices.  I know there are other beings out there worthy (children, elderly, soldiers) and I support and advocate for them too, but my particular passion is the four-legged creatures we share this earth with.  Peace.

HOME

I said goodbye to my best friend today. I held his warm furry body in my arms as he was given the medication that would ease his suffering. My husband and son were next to me, our newest addition – Belle the puppy, asleep in a basket by our feet.

We’ve had over thirteen years together, this beautiful boy cat and I. He ventured along on our nomadic journey - from his adoption in Alaska, down the winding Alcan Highway -- to the steep hills above Seattle. Across town, to our house by the lake, and then to another where we first brought our infant son home. Not quite settled, we set off again to lush Mississippi in a VW van, with him voicing his opinion for hundreds of miles. And finally, we settled here, in the rolling foothills of the Ozark Mountains.

He’s shared us with several others along the way – the little girl kitty we adopted at the same time; a year younger and much feistier. She helped him run off the weight he’d gained being a vet clinic cat – they had fed him and fed him, waiting for the right people to adopt the boy they’d all fallen in love with. He shared us with the abandoned kitten, torn up and swollen who we nursed back to health - she’s still here curling herself around my ankles. He would clean her and eventually she started returning the favor. His big heart could convince you like that. There’s the porch cat we inherited when we moved in, along with my little rat terrier. He shared us with all of them, but none anchored a place in our hearts like Scooter did.

I will miss his old soul, housed in a silver tux and white gloves. I will miss his beautiful golden eyes. I will mourn the loss of his companionship. He has been there for the most important events in my life – my marriage and the birth of my son. He weathered the former easier than the latter, but even he grew to tolerate and then love small sticky fingers. Just like he could convince you to adore him, he couldn’t stay away from anyone for long. He was too curious, with such a capacity for love. After all, meeting new people is just another adventure? I imagine him saying that to me.

This little homestead will be his final resting place – his last stop on our journey together. Sometimes I dream of adventures my family will have in the future, places we may go; but somehow I think Scooter will hold us here. He will secure us to this quiet place, where he decided he wanted to stay; out in the backyard, under the evergreen and the wren box, held fast by the stone rocks – the same way he anchored my heart.