Today marks the four year mark of saying goodbye to a best friend. I was going to write something then I remembered that everything I wanted to say I wrote back in a post in 2010. That being so I decided to republish that post and run it today. The post below originally ran April 11, 2010. Also, this is timely because I am thinking about getting a pet. I'm not close on going through with it, but the door has been opened to the possibility of getting one.
I can't believe today marks the day of one year. One year ago I had to have the last of the three pets I had put to sleep. I had a chapter about Amsterdam (the cat, not the city) in Finding Kansas and when my 2nd book comes out you will, again, be brought to tears with the story of Siam (again, the cat, not the former name of Thailand). This entry though is about what it has been like living without an animal.
When I was five we got Missy the Maltese, and then when I was nine we got Siam and Amsterdam. I remember events before my pets, but I don't remember a time in the house that there wasn't a dog or cat somewhere near by me.
For me, I need animals. There's a connection there that I don't share with other people. Eye contact comes easily and I seem to have an understanding about animals and they in turn are attracted to me. Last Friday I saw Greg's black lab, Annie, for the first time in five months and the barking and jumping she did to greet me was nothing short of crazy. I love it though and am put to ease by the sense of love that animals show.
There's nothing now at home. I shouldn't say nothing as there's a golden retriever, but she doesn't have much time left. Also, big dogs don't do as much for me as they aren't the type of animals that show the same sort of affection that smaller dogs and cats do.
People stress me out. People are inconsistent and have mood swings and it's generally tough to determine where I stand with other people. With animals though there is consistency. By an animals posture or eye movement one can know if they are happy or tense. People have hidden agendas, animals don't. People, including myself, stress about what happens tomorrow, an animal experiences heaven by simply being in the presence of those that they love (and being fed by those that love them!).
It's been rough this past year without a cat sitting on me while I watch the world go by, or a dog to greet me as I come home. Siam had a personality of a dog and would bark his meows. Truly, one could have a conversation with him. I know I had many.
In January I watched two dogs and from the moment they came into the house they were attracted to me. In was almost an inconvenience having two dogs on my ALL the time. This daschund was quite feisty with me. Cookie was her name and she, being longer than she was tall, couldn't jump up on my chair. She let me knew her displeasure of being on the floor with her ear piercing bark, so I picked her up and she was in paradise. She had me trained!
Cookie, and Cocoa, were on me all the time and on the first night they jumped up on my bed and slept at the foot of the bed limiting my space. I had a back ache the next morning, but it was worth it. It had been 9 months without that and I was happy.
The happiness was all too short lived as they went back home one week later. My connection to other beings on this Earth was severed and I was alone again.
The name of this blog is "Life on the other side of the wall" and the meaning behind it is that, when it comes to people, I feel s if there's a wall between us that prevents me from feeling a connection. I'm confident thought that cats and dogs live on the side of the wall I'm on because there is a connection. I freely, without thought, use the mysterious phrase of "I love you" with them.
It's not fair. It's not fair that dogs and cats can have this much power of me. It makes sense though as they are consistent and, well, they're just so soft and squeezable. I miss Siam more than I can put into words. I no longer am everything to an animal, and there are no animals that mean everything to me. They are all a memory now, and a foggy one at that. I don't remember animals much like I don't remember people. There's one thing I can remember though, the feeling of love, but that's all that it is now, a memory.