My Life with Animals

If you remember one thing about me, remember this: I have a profound love of animals. It is deeply embedded in my very core.

I believe I was an animal lover from birth, probably passed on by my father, who was also an avid animal lover. Truth be told, while I try not to judge, I find it hard to connect with people who don’t at least like animals. I don’t expect anyone to love animals as much as I do, but like them you must. I also never quite trust people who don’t like animals. I’m not talking about people who fear animals, that’s entirely different. But how can a friendly dog happily welcoming you, tail wagging, not even get acknowledged with a pat on the head?

Before you call me an over-the-top lunatic, let me explain why I love animals so much. For starters, as I said, I was born that way. Not much I can do about it. But how could you not love such magnificent creatures? Have you ever stopped and taken the time to truly observe a wild animal in its natural habitat? How can one not be in awe of such wonder? There is so much beauty in wildlife, despite its occasional brutality (the laws of nature can be quite harsh, unfortunately).

I love the way a mother cares for her young, the way a pride protects its own, the hierarchy among primates (and other creatures like bees and ants, for instance), and the fact that different species are able to coexist with one another, for the most part, peacefully. Their tolerance for pain and resilience. And again, their absolute beauty. Because yes, I see beauty in every living thing, regardless of how unattractive they might be. For instance, I happen to love tarantulas and don’t take well to people killing any type of spider. Yep, I’m one of those. Once you find out that (most) spiders are harmless and understand the significant purpose of their existence, you might appreciate them more. I dare you to hold a tarantula in your hand and truly look at it. It is graceful and rather gentle. It won’t bite unless provoked and even then, it will give you many signs before it strikes, such as lift its front legs and shed a little. Obviously, I’m not completely crazy and wouldn’t pick up an exotic spider just for fun. I’m not Steve Irwin, may he rest in peace.

Animals make me happy. Whether it’s my cats playing, birds making their nest in my backyard, squirrels foraging for food, raccoons making a mess on the deck in the middle of the night because I left some cat food out (my bad), watching horses horse around, swimming with sharks (sleeping sharks), stingrays and dolphins, feeding baby goats, being lucky enough to hold a lynx cub in my arms or feed coatis in Mexico (we got to feed the whole clan right outside our room, every day before dinner. I was deliriously happy and simply couldn’t get enough), being around animals fills me with absolute joy and peacefulness. Fun fact: did you know that coatis were some of the first mammals to emerge after dinosaurs were extinct? They’ve been around for a long time!

Of course, I grew up around animals. There was always a dog, a cat, or a bird living with us. I mostly remember Laska, our Lab-Doberman mix, and my father catching one of our cats with a canary tail protruding from its mouth. Our bird survived. Then, there were the two guinea pigs my boyfriend bought me for my 19th birthday. Though small, Chip and Dale were quite the companions.

I’m the girl at the party hanging out with the dog or petting the cat. In fact, I never understood friends who came to my house and failed to acknowledge my very friendly dog. One of these friends got her own dog one day and changed drastically. She became a dog lover overnight. I thought that was awesome. Yes, a dog – or a cat, or a horse – can absolutely change you. There is a reason why zootherapy works so well. I guess you could say my life is one big zootherapy.

Somehow, I always find my way to animals nearby, and strays usually find their way to me. Being bit on the bottom lip by a cocker spaniel when I was 5, with a trademark scar to prove it, didn’t do anything to scare me or slow me down. See animal, must pet. I’m like a bird drawn to a shiny object.

My unwavering need to cross the street whenever I saw a dog or cat as a teenager earned me the nickname “Dr. Dolittle” early on. I may have tried to convince the captain of the ship (Club Med 1) I was working on to adopt one of the cats lurking at the port in Istanbul. Sadly (and rightfully so), he said no.

I can hear you wondering, “Why didn’t you become a veterinarian?” Fair question. Here’s the honest answer: I was really bad at math. So, anything scientific was not an option for me (despite how badly my mother wanted me to become a nurse). It simply wasn’t happening. Also, my deep love of animals is a significant disadvantage when it comes to being a vet. While I am good at caring for them, it is excruciatingly painful for me to see any animal in pain. Roadkill is like a knife to my gut, every single time I see it. Animal abuse and animal cruelty make me insane. Puppy mills are shameful. And recent years have confirmed without a doubt that I don’t belong in a vet clinic (unsurprisingly, I gave birth to a real Dr. Dolittle who comes home with her own horror stories). But if you need me to wake up in the wee hours of the night for feedings or potty training, I’m your girl!

The first thing my fiancé and I did when we moved into our apartment was to get a kitten. I chose my fiancé well. His father was a renowned veterinarian in Europe (now retired). So, one kitten. But is one cat ever enough? We got another kitten. Or rather . . . my fiancé came home to another kitten one day. That kitten grew, and before we could have her fixed, she met the neighbourhood tramp and got a belly full of kittens, soon running havoc around the apartment! However, as cute as they were, I did learn my lesson. Not to mention that finding them good homes proved a discouraging task. Please spay your cats.

Five years later, we moved to Bermuda and sadly, couldn’t take the cats with us. I couldn’t find anyone to adopt them, so I had to take them to the SPCA. From then on, I told my husband that I would never again abandon a pet. It nearly broke me. Twenty some years later and I still haven’t gotten over the guilt (which could explain my need to rescue every cat out there).

We lived next to a small farm in Bermuda, whose owner welcomed anyone, at any time. His goal was to share his farm with others, for them to experience life with animals. A man after my own heart! It became a daily event for my toddler and me. My husband brought food scraps from the hotel (fruit and vegetable peels, bread, and other goodies) so we could feed the free-roaming sheep, goats, rabbits, and enormous sow. I had never seen such a huge pig. We fed her and made sure she had plenty of water. We did that several times a week for three years.

Bermuda also has a wonderful aquarium-zoo we visited at least once a week (activities with a toddler in Bermuda are limited), where we shared grapes and bananas with very eager tamarin monkeys. The peacock also got cookies. Bermuda is also where I introduced my daughter to horses. A passion that would quickly grow exponentially and continues to this day.

When we moved to Texas, I found a gorgeous calico cat while house hunting. Her owner was looking for a new family as she was severely allergic to cats. As fate would have it, Bella moved into our new home with us. I also spent a lot of time riding Simba at a ranch nearby, as this once severely injured palomino and I connected instantly. I even brought home a big stray dog from my daughter’s kindergarten. No one knew what to do with it, so I brought him home. I considered keeping it until it grabbed my daughter by the arm and tried to drag her. It probably wanted to play, but I couldn’t take the chance. I brought it to the shelter with a heavy heart, but my maternal instinct somehow knew I was doing the right thing.

Then off to Philadelphia we went. Bella came along, of course, but Simba remained at his ranch, happy and surrounded by his many friends. Not long after moving into our home, Scotty, a West Highland White Terrier puppy, became part of the family, Bella’s instant best friend, and made his way into the heart of anyone who crossed his path. A truly wonderful dog. He passed away at age 15 a little over a year ago. He is still sorely missed.

At the time of his passing, we had already adopted Kaia, a tortoise shell cat, and Jessie, a long-haired chihuahua who showed up on our doorstep one night and quickly took to Scotty as a big brother. Bella passed away a few months before Scotty did. I therefore decided to get Mowgli as a birthday gift, a beautiful grey prince of a cat – shortly followed by Safari, an adorable but psychopathic tabby kitten my daughter brought home from the vet clinic where she works.

It should come as no surprise that my offspring works with animals and is on her way to becoming a veterinarian. Her goal is to work with wild animals, run a wildlife sanctuary (or something like it) and have her own rescue farm. Before you condemn me for influencing her, please know that she wanted to become a vet even before she could write. I will admit that her jungle-themed nursery may have played a role, but between my husband, me, and our dads, our daughter was destined to love animals. I guess you could say it runs in her veins.

Truth be told, if it weren’t for my husband objecting, there would be a lot more animals in our home. Many strays have found shelter in our garage, long enough to find a good home or go back to their owner. As I mentioned earlier, strays somehow find their way to me. Between Texas and our current home in Quebec, there have been dogs, cats, a turtle, birds, a crazy squirrel, chipmunks and baby rabbits (rescued from my cats’ jaws and claws).

One stray still haunts my daughter and me. Cuba’s Havana is known to have many stray dogs, most of which are taken care of by the community. They even wear tags around their necks that mention their name and the vaccines they’ve had. One dog, without a tag, just started following my daughter and wouldn’t leave her side. While something else caught his attention, we picked up our walking speed and put some distance between us. To our surprise, he caught up and found her amid a busy crowd, sniffing passers-by until he found that one familiar scent. She so wanted to bring him home, but her dad said no. A sore subject to this day, many years later. Believe me when I say that no animal will ever be left behind again.

I ran a pet sitting service for a few years, during which many dogs made their way into our home. All the fur babies always got along, which was wonderful. So, after Scotty passed away, I though it would be a good idea – and a good deed – to foster a Mira puppy. (Mira is a non-profit organization that offers free guide dogs and service dogs to people living with visual impairments and physical disabilities, as well as to autistic children and young adults.)

I hadn’t realized that, all this time, Scotty was the one keeping the peace with all our furry friends. With Scotty gone, bringing a new puppy into the mix just didn’t work as well as I had thought. Jessie spent her time under the coffee table, terrorized and barely eating. The cats were not pleased either but dealt as well as they could, until Candela got comfortable and noticed how fun it was to chase them around! One very big puppy (twice the size of other puppies her age) and four terrorized pets. After one month of trying everything to smooth things over, I had to make the heartbreaking decision to let her go to another foster family. Not a decision I was happy or comfortable with, but necessary nonetheless. Thankfully, Candela now lives with a wonderful couple nearby, so I get to visit. However, I believe that everything happens for a reason, and having to let Candela go after just one month was a blessing in disguise. I fell in love with her the moment I first held her at the Mira centre and the two of us bonded almost overnight. Saying goodbye after one month was gut wrenching. I can’t even fathom what it would’ve been like after a year when she had to go back to Mira to be trained as a service dog and go on to fulfill her duty. Clearly, I am not the fostering type. However, I do have utmost respect and admiration for people who foster Mira puppies, year after year, despite their constant heartbreaking goodbyes.

Of course, having pets means having to say goodbye eventually, and losing a beloved pet is never easy. When they die from old age, one might find comfort in the fact that they were loved and had a good life, but making the decision to end their life is always extremely hard. If you’re lucky, they will let you know they’re tired and ready to go (or become so sick there will be no other option). If you’re even luckier, they’ll simply fall asleep in their favourite spot and ease into animal heaven. Either way, it will hurt. For some, losing a pet is unfathomable and their grieving takes a toll. Though I tend to be very rational when it comes to the passing of a pet, the guilt always lingers, the loss always stays with me, and I can’t help but have compassion for those who find it harder to let go.

Simply put, animals have always been a big part of my life. And they will continue to be until I die. I know I trigger my husband’s anxiety with my constant need to adopt and rescue. I hope that one day, he, too, will embrace the fact that this is our destiny. I’m laughing out loud writing this because I can already see him rolling his eyes at me. And one day, I will have my very own cat shelter and be a grandmother to all my daughter’s rescued farm animals, as well as many dogs and cats.

What was the purpose of this article? Maybe I’m hoping that my love of animals will rub off on some, or at the very least, raise awareness that animals are friends, not foes. Perhaps this article will resonate with other animal lovers.

“Until one has loved an animal, a part of one’s soul remains unawakened.” – Anatole France