Things I Learned From Animals
Many years ago, I lived and worked in Houston, Texas, and had an office/warehoue off the Northwest Freeway. I used to leave the bay door locked with an opening of at least six or eight inches so that Thomas and Sissy could easily come and go. (Thomas and Sissy were brother and sister from the same litter that Mamacat had. Names were pretty much a simple thing around the office)
On many a morning, Thomas would rather go in and out through the front door of the office. At night, he and Sissy would use the bay door opening, but during the day, he wanted my “full attention” and he wanted to be given preferential treatment. “Tommy” had a good self esteem, and a bright outlook on life in general. I’ve learned a lot about human nature from God’s creatures, including my dog, but Thomas put so much “verve” into his day that made each one unique. No two were alike.
If I ever learn to live life like Thomas (and my dog, Sharik) I will be content and fulfilled as a child of God, having been given the fullness of life and all the abundance that goes with it.
Animals, especially dogs and cats, seem to put an infinite trust in life. At least Thomas did…
I would awake each morning in the loft to the sounds of my alarm clocks (it took more than one to wake me up!). Thomas always came up the stairs to help, though. As I laid there trying to get my bearings, Tommy would lick me on my face with his rough tongue and defoliate my cheeks until I peered at him with - at least - one open eye. Upon opening - at least - one eye, he would then rub his nose on my face as if to say, “Good morning! It’s so exciting outside! Another day is coming! Yippee!
Sigh… I’m tired, but who can lay around with this much enthusiasm staring (and purring) him in the face?
Each morning I would share daybreak with him. We would watch the squirrels through the window, darting about on the telephone poles, as I was preparing breakfast. We had a routine. While I fixed his food, he would begin with a ritual of str-etching. Nothing trivial or hasty, mind you, but a leisurely, carefully planned and executed luxury that does him as much good as a vacation. Left front paw, right front paw, now both hind legs, and finally a long bend of the back, as he yawns with a gape that shows all his sharp pearlies… aaah! A brisk shake of the head and body, and then he would look at me with his big green eyes wide open, and ears perked up.
He dashed back to the window to make sure his “victims” are still playing on the telephone poles. He rears up on his hind paws, and peers out the window — quivering, with his tail twitching in excitement. Sunshine! Trees! Great Scott! There’s a leaf blowing across the yard! Thomas has looked out through this same window hundreds of mornings, but every time it is fresh and challenging and wonderful.
And so with breakfast. You would think he had never seen this old chipped crystal bowl before. He pounces on his food like a man finding a mother lode of gold! Then, when the last bit of food has been neatly licked off his plate, comes the ecstatic moment for going out to greet the new day.
Tommy never just goes through the doorway. (Animals, especially cats, don’t take these moments lightly.) First he glides halfway through, then stands in the doorway drinking in the sights and sounds, scents, and everything else God has put there for him. (He even approached rainy days the same way. To him, rain was just “liquid sunshine.”) Another inch or two and he would stop and stand again. (He’s “winding up” his mainspring.) At last, very slowly, he slips over the threshold. If so much wonder were to hit Thomas all at once, I dare say that he could hardly stand it.
Now he rushes to the middle of the lawn and there he performs his riotous caper. He takes a flying jump at nothing in particular, then peers and zigzags after imaginary mice. He leaps into the air and claps his paws on non-existent butterflies. Then some quick flip-flops, rolling over and over, all four paws waving wildly. In a minute it is finished and he steps off to his day’s adventures.
What better lesson in living could one have? Here is joy in every moment, an awareness of the electric exitement of the earth and all that is in it. One further lesson from Thomas: when he sleeps, he really sleeps! He curls up in a ball, puts one paw over the top of his head and turns himself over to God.
Animals give themselves wholeheartedly to the joy of just being. At dusk, just a bit before sunset, the squirrels would be back to their games on the telephone poles and jumping from tree to tree. Thomas would be right there “in the game” with them. (Where is Sissy in all this excitement? She’s taking the typical approach to her brother and dismissing his frolicking as juvenile revelry, while she is being more “mature” and tending to “more important matters in the house.” Their personalities are as different as their genders, and as night is from day.
I have seen an old fox batting a stick in absorbed rapture for over an hour. I have watched those same aforementioned squirrels play aerial roller-coaster. Children approach life in much the same way, before reason steps in to complicate their lives…
If animals can be said to have a philosophy, it is as simple as this: When God told man to subdue the earth, and he relinquished his control of it in his fall, animals never seemed to have lost the sense of the First Commandment… Enjoy! Be joyous! I have given you the glory of the senses and of awareness, and the splendor of the earth. Surrender yourself to these things, not worrying if it looks undignified to turn somersaults in the middle of the yard. When the word is “Fight!” pitch in and fight, not weighing hesitant thoughts about prudence and prejudice.
Rest, play, sleep, feed and doze in God’s green shade by the brook — a simple philosophy. It holds the strength of the world.
Animals do not know how to worry… it’s a learned trait.
An animal does not know what brotherhood means, but when it hears the call “Help!” it answers instinctively…
Not only do animals greet life in all its aspects wholeheartedly, they greet death in the same way. “Sleep now, and rest,” says God at the end…
Animals, especially cats and dogs, trust - innately - without fear, doubt or trepidation.
Thomas lived life to the fullest. He had a buddy named Bingo. Bingo was a Golden Lab mix with some Pedigree Mutt in him. Bingo was full of life - and with his red bandana tied around his neck - equally precocious. Tommy and Bingo would play “tag” and chase each other across the street and back, until one day when the trash truck was coming by on its route. Thomas “bet the house” and played “all ‘9 Lives’” when he miscalculated the speed of the truck and the spacing of the tires. Needless to say, 12 tons of (trash and) truck just “wore him out.”
Bingo went over to resuscitate him, giving him a nudge, but there was no revival nor resurrection. Tommy was gone… his death was as fast as his life. No suffering. I don’t think he even knew what hit him, and I would presume he wouldn’t have cared either.
Sissy, Bingo and I (and a few mechanics from the shop across the street) saw it all go down. I went out into the street to pick up the lifeless body of my old buddy, and went about the tearful chore of burying him with honors.
Sissy eventually took his place in our afternoon naps. I would be in the lab in the afternoons, and would take a couple of hours in the recliner, and Thomas would curl up in my lap and take his place. Summer or winter, it didn’t matter, he would be there to keep me warm. Sissy had always been pretty much independent; much like I like my women. Some of my ex-girlfriends could learn “a thing or two” from Sissy.
If I went off on an errand, or a delivery during the day, Thomas was always faithful to wait for me out front, like a loyal canine. Bingo wouldn’t be far behind. Sissy? Well, she would be “in the house” doing “her thing.”
After Tommy’s demise, she took up his place in my lap for the afternoon naps, and his place out front, waiting for me to return from my day away from the office. She also took his place in the aerial roller-coaster with the squirrels, and chasing phantom butterflies. (It seems some females could actually learn something from their male counterparts.)
It wasn’t long before Sissy came up missing. She hadn’t come home for several days, and I kept food out for her. I kept the bay door open at 6 to 8 inches each day, wishing she would bring me her “love gifts,” but she was never to return. Several months later, I was next door visiting one of my merchant neighbors in his shop. He was a manufacturer and formulated shampoos and hair treatments for a high end specialty niche market. There were drums and karboys of all sorts of chemicals sitting around on pallets, and some of it looked quite toxic. Ingested internally, I suppose it would be in large amounts, but small amounts might simply “clean the pipes” like a good calonic.
I was helping him move some product out of the back corner of the warehouse and I noticed the lifeless, and perfectly preserved body of Sissy. She had evidently been out “visiting” on her adventures (as was her custom) and had gotten locked in the warehouse, and found some of the spillage “tasty.” She didn’t like beer or wine, so I knew she had not been out “on the town” and there was no anti-freeze in the warehouse; so it must have been something else that went into the shampoos that she found.
Needless to say, I took her body, too, and put her in a small wooden casket and buried her next to her brother, Thomas.
It was lonely around the shop without Tommy or Sissy. Bingo? He was happy to stay outside and cavort. He belonged to my neighbor across the street, and was a bit remiss without his feline playmates.
Now I am in the summer of my life, and have had the good blessing of a dog. I’ve never really been considered a cat or dog person, as I’ve never really had a preference of one over the other. I’ve loved them all. They have all loved me. I wonder if I have benefitted more in the relationship, as I have learned so much from them.
Yes, cats are somewhat independent, but there are exceptions. Was Tommy and Sissy spoiled? Absolutely! Probably as much as Magnus the Magnifi-cat… or moreso.
Now Sharik has my love and attention. He has lived almost 140 years. If he weren’t my “shadow” I fear he wouldn’t have lived this long. He is blind, hard of hearing, and has congestive heart failure. I’m not sure he will make it through the summer. One of the things I must do in the next few weeks is prepare a corner plot on the family acreage with some wild flowers and lots of sunshine. I must prepare myself, mentally and emotionally, for the eventuality that I must someday part with my good friend, Sharik.
I adopted my dog… no, I rescued him. Or, did he rescue me? We’ve been together for almost ten years, and he is now going on 20 human years. When he was young, he could hop into the car, through the window, from a running start. He used to ride with me everywhere I went. We went on road trips to Oklahoma, Iowa, Texas, Missouri, and he lived the adventures with me. Now, he sleeps most of the time between trips to the food and water bowls, and “bidniss” outside.
He will come up and nudge my elbow with his cold nose, while I’m working at the computer, typing on a manuscript or working on a book. It’s his way of telling me “It’s time for my lap time!” So, I take my cue from him, save my work, and get our blanket and pillow and head off to the recliner. After I get situated, he makes his circle - around and around in my lap - and then plops down to rest. Just a few apniatic snores later, he is sound asleep. And I’m not far behind him.
He’s had some “spells” here lately. He’s had some seizures, and I’ve come close to losing him a couple of times when he fainted and vomited bile (a sign of impending trauma). I rush over and pick him up, and hold him close to my chest, and comfort him and let him know he’s safe in my arms. He’s my Little Shadow, and he follows me around by scent, as he’s blind and can’t see me. He’s hard of hearing, too, so it’s hard for him to tell where I’m at when I’m talking to him. But he knows my touch, and he’s safe in my arms. Much like we are safe in God’s arms.
When it comes time for him to go, I am going to have a much harder time letting him go than for him to let me go. It’s always been hard for me to let my animals go…
But I have learned many lessons from God’s creatures… especially from dogs and cats. They can be very trusting until you deny that trust from them. Animals are so transparent and can reflect back to you many of your qualities and faults.
An old nun told me one time that I would make a good father and a good husband. She told me that, had she not taken vows, she would have loved me as a wife. I was honored to have her tell me that. I would have been honored, as well, to be her husband. Sister S. (I’ll call her) knew how I doted on my dog. I treated him much like a dad would love his son and gave him everything he ever needed, and he never lacked for anything. He never worried for want during times of economic shortage: he was happy to be with me.
Well… it’s time for my morning nap. And it’s time for my Sharik’s “lap time.” Evidently it works very well, all these naps: it keeps my blood pressure down.
Just a few things I’ve learned from animals…
