Thursday, June 14, 2012
Saturday, June 9, 2012
There is something profoundly sincere about owning an older pet. Your decision being the first thing. The result being the second. The response is the third.
First, by choosing and older pet, you've granted yourself a chance at being part of a life that had memory and circumstance not your own, which makes the event exciting, new and intriguing. You'll get to know a critter who has grown and adapted to life, maybe not such a good one, and they'll better appreciate the one you give to them. You'll also be choosing to grant security and faith in a critter who has perhaps lost those values in their experiences. Least of all, you are making a selfless act in that what you are creating is a home for a pet, which has lost theirs due to unforeseen or perhaps terrible circumstances. It's a raw emotion for them as well as you, the likes of which are really strong and just.
What you get is apprehension followed by loyalty. It's that apprehensive period, however, that connects you to them. You both learn good and bad feelings, how to manage them and then how to overcome them. As in, our cat B came to us very shy of touch, but it was only after a vet visit that we learned why. Severe arthritis. The poor kid was just in pain. It wasn't that he disliked being held, more that we had to learn how to hold him without causing him pain. Also, Levi: we had to recognize that his situation often left him hungry, so his overeating was something we had to monitor, not something for which to berate him. Being hungry or in pain all the time makes a critter reactive. They respond like us, don't they?
Last, the result. Adoration. Joy. Trust. Critters who have been neglected or abused, abandoned or lost, turn to you to seek comfort. What solace it brings to the heart knowing you've given them peace. Enjoy it.
I know Tyson will find his home. And I'm grateful for the people who have considered being his care-givers. I've delighted in the possibility and struggled with the denial, but I get it. When you want to adopt him or others like him, you think to yourself, "Am I the best fit?". It's honest. It's sincere. It's noteworthy and admirable.
We all have our places in life. And he will find his. I'm sure of it. In fact, he already has. He is loved. Cared for. Warmed and fed. Without fear. With love. Tyson is in a good place. He is. Ted and I, like many, just want his health and happiness. He's already there. Still. I look for his Norman Rockwell life, beside the hearth, with loving parents, and a warm, soft bed.
Good night, my sweet. You are loved by many, and soon, you be loved more ardently by one. Sleep well, my dear. Tomorrow is another day.
First, by choosing and older pet, you've granted yourself a chance at being part of a life that had memory and circumstance not your own, which makes the event exciting, new and intriguing. You'll get to know a critter who has grown and adapted to life, maybe not such a good one, and they'll better appreciate the one you give to them. You'll also be choosing to grant security and faith in a critter who has perhaps lost those values in their experiences. Least of all, you are making a selfless act in that what you are creating is a home for a pet, which has lost theirs due to unforeseen or perhaps terrible circumstances. It's a raw emotion for them as well as you, the likes of which are really strong and just.
What you get is apprehension followed by loyalty. It's that apprehensive period, however, that connects you to them. You both learn good and bad feelings, how to manage them and then how to overcome them. As in, our cat B came to us very shy of touch, but it was only after a vet visit that we learned why. Severe arthritis. The poor kid was just in pain. It wasn't that he disliked being held, more that we had to learn how to hold him without causing him pain. Also, Levi: we had to recognize that his situation often left him hungry, so his overeating was something we had to monitor, not something for which to berate him. Being hungry or in pain all the time makes a critter reactive. They respond like us, don't they?
Last, the result. Adoration. Joy. Trust. Critters who have been neglected or abused, abandoned or lost, turn to you to seek comfort. What solace it brings to the heart knowing you've given them peace. Enjoy it.
I know Tyson will find his home. And I'm grateful for the people who have considered being his care-givers. I've delighted in the possibility and struggled with the denial, but I get it. When you want to adopt him or others like him, you think to yourself, "Am I the best fit?". It's honest. It's sincere. It's noteworthy and admirable.
We all have our places in life. And he will find his. I'm sure of it. In fact, he already has. He is loved. Cared for. Warmed and fed. Without fear. With love. Tyson is in a good place. He is. Ted and I, like many, just want his health and happiness. He's already there. Still. I look for his Norman Rockwell life, beside the hearth, with loving parents, and a warm, soft bed.
Good night, my sweet. You are loved by many, and soon, you be loved more ardently by one. Sleep well, my dear. Tomorrow is another day.
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