Pet Memories

60: (April 2018)

It’s been two years since our trio of family pets passed away. Zizi, our horse, was the last to go. Our two dogs, Buddy and Sophie, passed shortly before, all within five months of each other. It marked the end of a phase of life. But the memories can still trigger an eruption of emotions that occasionally catch me off guard.

Last night I was at a small gathering of friends when the conversation turned to something that brought up a memory of Buddy. As I began to talk about it, I got all choked up, unable to hold back tears even before I got the first sentence out. Despite the passage of time, a random memory can still elicit so many feelings.

After Zizi died, I took a job at a pet company which makes products for disabled, injured, and aging pets. Working for a company that helps animals was something I felt I could do to honor our three beloved pets. Somehow, it seemed like a good way to deal with the grief in a healthy way after losing them all in such a short period of time. Buddy had been with us for over 16 years, Zizi for the last 15 years of her 38-year life, and Sophie for more than 14. We were fortunate to have them with us for so long. The memories stay even longer – undoubtedly forever – deeply carved into my emotional memory bank.

Happily, as the PR/Marketing Director for a pet company, I get to interview and write stories about pet caretakers all over the world. It is very powerful to witness the love between people and their pets, even though it includes sharing in their pain when they go through losses. The simple fact is that most people will outlive their pets, so the loss is inevitable. Yet people give their heart and soul to these furry family members.

You might be surprised at how many times I hear that a pet has saved someone’s life – not physically, but emotionally. Pets get people through hard times; they know how to give love unconditionally. Why else would we so willingly jump out of bed in the wee hours of the morning to take them outside, clean up after them when they have accidents, work our schedules and our lives around feeding and caring for them, and generally put up with a lot of fur and mess? Plus, pets are fun. They teach us not to take ourselves too seriously.

Buddy, Sophie, and Zizi will always be our superstars. They were an incredibly rich source of joy for all of us. That said, I haven’t invited a new pet into our lives; there are indeed phases of life. Mine currently includes an expanded family with children and stepchildren across the country and abroad, and scrumptious grandbabies who need to be visited! I suppose another horse is not in my future, but I’d like to think that dogs will be at some point, in another phase when we can be home more regularly to give them plenty of attention and care.

In the meantime, I have amazing memories that are alive and well in my heart – ready to spring forth at a moment’s notice!

40: (April 1998)

Recently, I met with a friend I had not seen for many years. She had since contracted a disease that causes her a great deal of pain, sometimes confining her to bed for days at a time. The pain alone would be hard for anyone, but she has four young children who depend on her for their care and with whom she would dearly love to play. Yet when we talked about our dreams for the future, my friend did not complain. Instead, she said she was thinking of inquiring at her church about ministering to people who have chronic pain. She thought she might be able to help them.

I looked at my friend. I did not see a woman in pain, although I knew she was experiencing physical difficulties even at that moment. I saw a woman of strength. I saw a woman in peace. She looked beyond herself, and in so doing, she had found the calm within.

Since visiting with my friend I have been struck by how many people appear to have a full life, yet seem discontent. Ironically, the discontents seem to be most concerned with the pursuit of their own happiness. Of course, we all want to be happy, but the discontents seem to start out from the position of “How can I be happy?” Others, like my friend, turn that question inside out, first asking what they can offer to the world. It is these people who appear to be the most satisfied with their lives.

I have noticed that if people ask how they can serve the world, things flow out of them, leaving room for good things to flow in. But if people start by wondering how and what they want the most, they seem to get stuck. There is no flow, no movement. The energy of life is not meant to be hoarded, circling within the self; it longs to reach out. When people do not extend themselves to family, friends, community, or the world, they stagnate. 

Life can be viewed as a gift to be given or as a receptacle for gifts to be received. I see joy in those who have stretched their arms to share and their lives to give. I see emptiness and confusion in those who have forgotten how to turn things inside out. But what do I know? I am only observing. Don’t worry – I wasn’t looking at you.

60-40:

Last year I went to the wedding of that friend’s oldest child. My friend still has health issues, still struggles with physical pain on a regular basis. Yet she looked radiantly beautiful, surrounded by a large family and a wide circle of friends, all sharing with her in a celebration of love.

Joy is indeed in the giving – be it for people or pets. When you stretch your arms to give, you wind up with people and babies and furry animals that fill them up. You get to hold other beings we share this earth with, you get to comfort them, laugh with them, grow with them. Sometimes you get to ease their way through the passageway from life to death.

You get to experience love.