This is home, where chaos is the norm. Well not really. I spend a lot of time getting things in order and in my opinion Liam and Guinnie and Precious spend their time getting my attention.
This morning I was out looking at trees and Liam wasn’t invited. He peed on my boots – which I had put out but not on. Guinnie gets all the dog beds, stray shoes, well, they become stray, shirts etc out into the hall or in the dog yard. Often then that allows Liam to pee on them. They are a team.
I spend a lot of my time talking to people about animals, their animals and the scope of the woo-woo animal mind. I listen to animals, I listen to people. What difference I notice is the dogs and cats I communicate with are more general thinkers. They tend to see larger pictures even if they are discomfited in some way by the circumstances they find themselves in. That’s a big difference in style and substance from people, who from what I hear, are often taking everything personally. Including the animals they live with.
In my experience animals don’t see themselves as victims of their fate, that would be taking it personally, as if they’d done something to cause it. They look out at their environment and see it for what it is. They may not like it, they may love it, they may get attached to it either way, but they don’t eat themselves up with guilt about it. When an animal attacks itself they are usually reacting to stress in their environment, not beating up on themselves.
In my household of intense, over-mental humans the animals work hard to keep us distracted from grinding away at our thoughtful inhibitions that keep us away from the really important task of connecting with the world. They see our intellectual grinding as cause of distress, and they do their best to help us.
Sitting on my lap as I write is Pachi who has tried many times to take over this blog.
She has spent her finest hours making sure I do things on my own without the help of the vase or the bell, that pesky cup or the ridiculously overpriced sofa. She is a master of the moment. Now nearly seventeen, weighing under five pounds (her top weight was 5 pounds 7 ounces) with hips that I know are stiff has flown out the door, risen on her two legs to challenge the two stray male cats who have been hanging around. I had to run after and suffer scratches meant for the Toms to bring her around to my sensibility – I will never convince her to be anything other than who she is.
So when you call me to talk to an animal, don’t think they’ll roll over and do as you ask. They’ll have a lot to say, but “yes ma’m” is unlikely. In the course of their lives they’ve learned and seen a lot. They appreciate love and everything you do, and, as Precious is doing right now tearing around the wool chair that looks like a jungle-gym, they most want to remind you to be here now. In that they are like bells we don’t have to ring, they remind us of the loftier goals we talk about and need help maintaining.