There is a 12-Step definition of insanity that says it is doing the same things over and over again, but always expecting a different outcome. I hope that I’ve learned enough from my companion animals—and my life lessons—that I will be able to make different choices in the future. I almost wrote “better” choices, but as I said in the beginning of the book, sometimes you can’t regret the choices you made because they almost always bring you right to where you are supposed to be—whether to learn a lesson again, or to try something different. “No matter where you go—there you are.” I don’t know who I would be if I hadn’t made the choices I did in my past, but I’m fairly certain that I would still be making mistakes and still repeating some lessons.
The lessons I have learned from my companion animals have always been grounded in trust and love. There has been joy and laughter. Pain… yes… there has been pain—but always the pain of letting them go is with love as the basis. Never has a painful lesson with my animals been malicious. Unlike humans who all too often hurt each other with their words or actions.
My first pets taught me about friendship and responsibility. They were my friends when it was difficult for me to make friends in school because of how often the military moved us as I was growing up. They taught me how to be responsible—whether it was cleaning Greta’s or Pete’s cages, making sure that Bandit’s litter box was clean, Brandy walked, or just keeping their food and water bowls filled. They depended on me, and their health and welfare were my responsibility.
Midnight showed me that sometimes when we think we have lost all hope, miracles can happen. His reappearance after Andrea thought he was dead, and his absolute devotion to her that kept him alive when his burns could have killed him was nothing short of a miracle. Whenever I have felt like just giving up, I often think of Midnight and how he fought for life, alone and in a great deal of pain. I think of his will to live and tell myself that my struggles at times with insecurities and low self-esteem aren’t anything that I can’t overcome and that I must never give up on myself or my dreams.
Being forced to make a choice between my cat, Jazzmin, and Will’s insecure ego taught me that I never wanted to be in that position again, nor would I ever issue an ultimatum to someone like that. Putting someone between a rock and a hard place—as Ryan’s mother did to him when she told him he would have to choose between loving her and liking me—is cruel and unfair. Since that time, whenever someone has expected me to choose between them or someone or something else, I have usually chosen the person/thing/animal who didn’t ask me to make a choice. There are no “sides” in life. The only other “side” to life is death, and that comes all too soon at times. I choose to be happy now, to surround myself with people, animals and things that make me happy and that accept me just as I am.
During a hurricane once, a stray dog taught me that every act of kindness is appreciated, no matter how random. The dog showed up just hours before the storm hit. Hot, thirsty and obviously panicked, he looked as if he had been on his own for a while. When I first saw him standing outside my door, acting as if he wanted to come in, I was hesitant. As I watched him, I could sense his trust and so walked out to him with bowls of water and food. When he was done eating I led him into my garage where he could wait out the storm. Two days later, when my vet’s office reopened, I took him in for a checkup and eventually found him a home with a former co-worker who had recently lost a dog. He is now happy and healthy, successfully treated for heartworms that he had. I have since found a wooden plaque of a simple cat outline that was once used by hobos on the road to identify “kind hearted women” who might provide a meal or assistance to
The lessons I have learned from my companion animals have always been grounded in trust and love. There has been joy and laughter. Pain… yes… there has been pain—but always the pain of letting them go is with love as the basis. Never has a painful lesson with my animals been malicious. Unlike humans who all too often hurt each other with their words or actions.
My first pets taught me about friendship and responsibility. They were my friends when it was difficult for me to make friends in school because of how often the military moved us as I was growing up. They taught me how to be responsible—whether it was cleaning Greta’s or Pete’s cages, making sure that Bandit’s litter box was clean, Brandy walked, or just keeping their food and water bowls filled. They depended on me, and their health and welfare were my responsibility.
Midnight showed me that sometimes when we think we have lost all hope, miracles can happen. His reappearance after Andrea thought he was dead, and his absolute devotion to her that kept him alive when his burns could have killed him was nothing short of a miracle. Whenever I have felt like just giving up, I often think of Midnight and how he fought for life, alone and in a great deal of pain. I think of his will to live and tell myself that my struggles at times with insecurities and low self-esteem aren’t anything that I can’t overcome and that I must never give up on myself or my dreams.
Being forced to make a choice between my cat, Jazzmin, and Will’s insecure ego taught me that I never wanted to be in that position again, nor would I ever issue an ultimatum to someone like that. Putting someone between a rock and a hard place—as Ryan’s mother did to him when she told him he would have to choose between loving her and liking me—is cruel and unfair. Since that time, whenever someone has expected me to choose between them or someone or something else, I have usually chosen the person/thing/animal who didn’t ask me to make a choice. There are no “sides” in life. The only other “side” to life is death, and that comes all too soon at times. I choose to be happy now, to surround myself with people, animals and things that make me happy and that accept me just as I am.
During a hurricane once, a stray dog taught me that every act of kindness is appreciated, no matter how random. The dog showed up just hours before the storm hit. Hot, thirsty and obviously panicked, he looked as if he had been on his own for a while. When I first saw him standing outside my door, acting as if he wanted to come in, I was hesitant. As I watched him, I could sense his trust and so walked out to him with bowls of water and food. When he was done eating I led him into my garage where he could wait out the storm. Two days later, when my vet’s office reopened, I took him in for a checkup and eventually found him a home with a former co-worker who had recently lost a dog. He is now happy and healthy, successfully treated for heartworms that he had. I have since found a wooden plaque of a simple cat outline that was once used by hobos on the road to identify “kind hearted women” who might provide a meal or assistance to
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