Monday, September 17, 2012
Is it so surprising that I relate far better to animals than to humans? All my life I have been more comfortable in the company of the four-legged sentient life forms than the bipedal humanoids. It far more natural for me to read and understand the body language and actions of my beasts than to comprehend human nature. My animals are predictable in their actions and reactions, their love for me, their interactions with each other. They never doubt my feelings for them, and are very perceptive to my moods. I have written, a number of times, about their companionship, and empathy during the darkest days of this last winter. They were my tether to reality, my lifeline to prevent freefall into the abyss. They were there for me, when I felt no one else was. True, my family kept in touch, kept me in their hearts, but they have their own lives and I would never expect them to be at my side for days on end. My animals and I understand each other, trust each other, never doubt each other. That is a true gift. My dogs are honest and forthright, even in their guilt. Granted, my cats are a little less trustworthy, in that feline, "I really want you to pet me, but I kinda wanna bite you" way, especially His Shitness, Homer. But they still are affectionate, loving, and desirous to be in my company. How many humans can I say this of, day in and day out? I confess to a ridiculous attachment to my animals, their quirky personalities, each one a rare individual. I know that their attachment to me goes beyond She Who Feeds, especially my dogs. My dogs prefer to keep me in sight when I am home, and according to sources, are rather quiet and uninterested in much when I am gone. I know their exuberance at my homecoming is always excited, happy, delirious even. And after a long day, when I feel like the whole world has assaulted me emotionally and mentally, their slobbery, gleeful welcome helps me shed some of the cares of the world. Relaxing, alone, in the evenings, I look around my living room and see every one of my animals within a six foot invisible bubble, most within arms reach, some in physical contact. To have Hellcat sprawled across my lap, vibrating with his insanely loud purr, Elliot draped across the back of the chair with one massive paw resting on my shoulder, Luna curled regally at my left side in her ranking spot of Queen, Homer exhibiting his mild fetish for my sheepskin slippers. Hugo lays at my feet, watching me with loving eyes, Tonks slumbering contentedly nearby, twitching with Wolfhoundy dreams. Peace radiates out from this mass of fur, a peace and acceptance that I find no where else. Is this wrong? Am I approaching crazy animal lady status as my pack increases? I just know that I understand them, I do not worry that they will ever doubt me, suspect me, question my love and attachment. True, they are not great conversationalists, but they are great listeners.