“Until one has loved an animal, a part of one’s soul remains unawakened.” Anatole France, a French poet, journalist and novelist who won the Nobel prize for literature in 1921, spoke these words. I think this man, who lived and died in different times, was onto something big.
I think my mother was onto something big, too. She introduced me to idea of interacting with the world of animals and nature with kindness and an open heart. As for my father, his upbringing on a small, mixed farm in Ontario meant his experiences with animals, plants, land and water were much more utilitarian. This, of course, gave me two very different perspectives about how to engage with my world, and is, perhaps, my parents’ greatest gift to me.
It being February, the month of all things related to the heart, I wanted to share a few of my remarkable relationships with animals and what they have taught me about love.
First, there was Mollie. She was a robust romp of a dog, a great big collie with elegant, long, flowing hair when she ran. I wouldn’t be writing this today if it weren’t for Mollie, as she saved me from drowning as a toddler. While my parents were distracted, Mollie noticed my water wings and I had wandered too far from the beach for safety. Seeing the danger, Mollie swam out and dragged me back to shore by my bathing suit. Her rescue became legendary within my family. Mollie’s intelligence and swift action caused me to learn to trust animals and their instincts completely, although I was too young to understand I had learned this at the time. Mollie died when I was only four or five, but I remember her clearly and think of her often.
Then there was Timmy, a gorgeous, long-haired, tortoiseshell cat, who came into my life when I was six. Timmy, named such as we were assured she was a male cat when we got her, became my playmate and friend. Like Puff the Magic Dragon, the way we spent our time spent together changed as we grew older. In our early times together I’d dress Timmy up in doll clothes — she hated it but would put up with it all the same, I think because she liked the ride in my doll carriage afterwards. As we both matured, there was more cuddling and napping than rambunctious play. From Timmy I learned how to continue a relationship despite changing times and growing up. She also taught me how to cope with uncertainty, forgiveness and sudden loss. She died one night after being hit accidentally by a car, quite possibly a car driven by a family member.
A baby sparrow, found hurt by a friend of my brother, ended up at my childhood home for a while. On the mend from a broken wing, Beauty, as we named her, brought much laughter and joy to our household. One of her funniest routines involved Beauty escaping from her cage in the morning, hopping across my parents’ bed, then pulling the bobby pins from my mother’s hair while she was still asleep. Beauty taught me about ingenuity, diversity and how it is possible for different species to live together in peace. (Beauty healed and thrived in a family of kids, adults, dogs, cats, goldfish and a turtle.) On her eventual release into the wilds of our neighbourhood trees, Beauty also introduced me to the concept of natural habitat being critical to an animal’s well being.
Today I enjoy the company of two remarkable and very close animal friends — a dog, Bear, and a cat, Pumpkin. Napping in a warm ray of sunshine, they remind me to live in the moment. What a great lesson this is, considering our lives are really nothing more than a long string of continuous moments. Daily feeding and exercise routines remind me of the many rewards of responsibility and consistency. Mostly, though, they teach me about unconditional love. Wagging tails and contented purrs assure me of their forgiveness when I come home late, which means their dinner is late, too.
My heart has learned many lessons thanks to my relationships with both furry and feathered friends. Being blessed with the opportunity to interact with all creatures great and small — now that’s in our best interest.
