Uplift Project Day #5

“Until one has loved an animal, a part of one’s soul remains unawakened.” Anatole France

These past two weeks have been difficult. Period.

First I lost my banded leporinus fish to swim bladder disease, an infection that caused him to have to swim upside down. Even though I tried the suggested remedies he could not overcome it. He was a beautiful creature with bold black and yellow stripes and had a way of letting his tank mates know he was in charge of their 30-gallon realm without being overly aggressive.  What’s so interesting to me is how a pet you can’t stroke or take for a walk can still connect to your being and leave a void when they depart.

Then not even a week later we had to put down our trusted family hound of eleven years. Sydney was actually a bothersome pet. He always smelled like a damp rug, even though he lived indoors. As soon as you went to get the mail out of the box or if he thought you wouldn’t notice because you were engrossed in a Netflix binge session, he would sneak back to our daughter’s room, toenails clicking on the hardwoods, and quickly eat the cat’s food, even though he knew this was forbidden. Sometimes he would even steal a “treat” out of the litter box and nibble away. In his last couple years, he seemed scared to be left alone and would follow you all over the house. Even if you were only briefly trotting to the bedroom to retrieve your glasses he was right at your heels the entire trip. It’s interesting how the quirks that annoy you become endearments you miss when they’re finally no longer around.

But Sydney gave us many smiles too. He was a catahoula leopard breed which gave him the appearance of a hyena but also made his coat like a Cubist painting of black and brown swatches. He loved to ride in the front passenger seat of the car, window rolled all the way down, his front paws resting on the mirror and his nose pointed straight ahead in the wind, no matter the temperature. It seemed there was more of him out of the car than in and so I kept the collar on him with the leash attached taut to my wrist to keep him from falling out. Whenever we ate pizza he knew his name was on the crust. But he would sit like a canine statue with ears folded forward, staring at you intently as you tried to enjoy your slice, periodically stamping his back paw on the floor with a slight huff, persevering until you placed the doughy strand in his mouth. He loved to take walks and even as he grew weaker and weaker from the cancer inside he could still drag you down the street like a Disney dalmatian scene. One of my favorite times of the day was crawling into bed at night and him lying on the his dog pillow on the floor beside me so I could rub his ears while he drifted off. I’m still side-stepping the spot where he slept when I get up in the morning, a habit that won’t quite let go yet.

When I think of all the pets who have tied my heartstrings in square knots throughout my 53-1/2 years of life, I’m bombarded with conflicting emotional flashbacks – joy, companionship, anxiety relief, and unconditional love from creatures with whom I couldn’t even carry a conversation. Maybe that’s the point, the beauty of the experience. These relationships we have with these furry, feathered, scaly beings are so gripping, words are unnecessary. But those happy memories are quickly accompanied by the scary ones and the weary ones and of course, the downright cruel ones that occur when we have to say goodbye to these…these…children! Unlike our human babies though, these kids never grow up and become independent.  They will always need us, and I think maybe, I will always need them too.

In memory of Butch, Amigo, Shane, Misty, Polar Bear, Mellie, Mayday, Sydney (the cockatiel), Winnie, Winston, Buster, Sandy, Pokey, Pasqualena, Pepper, Stryper, Sydney (the dog), and Tuna.

And in celebration of our present furry children and/or grandcats: Dexter, Miley, Maylea and Sadie.

Updated 9/15/21