A corollary to that is the ability to forget and move on. During the pandemic my dogs have driven me crazy and I them. But I know they love me and I think they know that I love them.
This. And the unconditional trust from those pets.
We just had to say goodbye to one of our cats this weekend due to a return of cancer, and the accompaniment of pancreatitis and onset of kidney failure. I’ve learned to spend more time with the other cats that we do have, and not to take them for granted.
Tripler
Goodnight Moe. I’ll see you on the other side.
Tripler, I’m very sorry for your loss.
I’ve probably learned a whole lot from other animals that I’ve forgotten how I learned it. Let’s see, here’s a couple:
The way to catch a cat is not to chase it. This information may well be applicable to non-cats.
The same apparent communication from different creatures may mean different things. This was probably most glaringly obvious when I figured out that the goat that was head-butting me (in too small an area to get a run-up) was saying not ‘hi! glad to see you!’ but ‘get the hell out of my space!’; however there have been other more subtle instances. I’ve found that this is also often applicable within the same species, including when the species is human.
Are things going well in the moment? Then enjoy the moment. Don’t waste it all worrying about things that didn’t or might not go well at some other time.
Always cover up your shit. Don’t expect the next guy to do it.
That reminds me of another one I learned from livestock, some of which, let’s face it, are also pets.
Never chase. Always coax.
Very wise words. Living in the moment is probably the greatest lesson our pets can teach us. Reminds me of the eloquent words of Wendell Berry:
“When despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I come into the presence of still water. And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light. For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and I am free.”
Thanks. This is the first loss of a ‘little dood’ I’ve had in awhile. It’s taught me that it’s different than a human, because of the different dependency/innocence relationship with a pet.
Tripler
Supporting the wife with this, too–her cat.
‘I can’t fix that, but we could walk!’
After losing a sibling to suicide, and my dysfunction family had dispersed (after blaming me! ‘You live in the same city!), and poor hubs was left with a non functioning partner and no ideas how or what to do. I didn’t know either.
Hubs would get up, go to work, always asking, as I lay unable to get out of bed, ‘Will you be okay? Are you sure? Promise you’ll call me, etc, etc’, then he’d go. I’d lie in bed scouring my mind for any reason to get up.
Then, my dog would arrive at my bedside, jam his face right up to mine, and I swear I could clearly hear his thoughts. “Y’know we gotta walk, right? Cause I’m ready, let’s go!” He was sooo persistent, after 20-15 mins, I’d grudgingly agree, ‘OK! Fine! But I’m coming right back to this bed!’
I’d drag my sorry self up and into clothes, bundle up and head out into the winter’s cold. I wouldn’t bathe, wear yesterday’s clothes, not eat, just go get it over. Of course you can’t just walk around the city streets weeping, so no more parks or leafy neighbourhood, we sought out a wild but fenced spot behind the community centre and the rail tracks.
I’d clomp along, head down, then just plop down and have a good cry, while the dog tried hard to frolic enough to distract me. Eventually it would work and I’d start to interact, throw sticks and even start smiling again. The walk home saw my head up and more bounce in my steps. Once home I’d be hungry, decide to shower, change clothes, and muddle through another day somehow.
Those days went by in a blur, indistinguishable from each other, it was weeks I know. Then the day came when I started to think this spot was now triggering the daily weep and, just maybe, I didn’t need it any more. And, just like that, we were back to walking the city parks and leafy neighbourhood with a smile and an openness to life I thought I might never recover.
That’s the story of how my dog saved me from the very edge of the abyss.
By making me walk!
Dogs are wonderful! I was saddened to read about old difficulties but glad they could be woofed a little better.
Whew. Glad that he did.
I suspect quite a lot of dogs and cats and other creatures have saved their humans – because one must get out of bed and feed the cat, walk the dog, water the horse. Maybe even a few fish have done it.