The Love Of A Pet - By Ray Faulkenberry, Ph.D.

In many a household, there are extended family members known as PETS. Many, if not most of us have had pets at one time or another in our lives.

We’ve had MANY over the years and pets can give us so much.

I want to share a POST I wrote years ago as it talks about one of the painful things in life – the loss of someone or something near to you. However, there is beauty and magic in life and it shows us in different ways.

I hope you enjoy this post although it may seem sad – in some ways.

Hi Friends…

I want to share something with you that I am hoping you take as a gift for that is what is intended.

Read on…

Annie died yesterday.

Before I fill you in on all of the details I would like to share with you my experience.

For whatever reasons, many of which I am probably not aware, I have very deep compassion for people or life forms that are alone, scared, and who choose a very painful existence. Annie fit into this category. I have spent the last few years taking time to talk with Annie, comfort her, make her feel important, and let her know every way I could that I loved, accepted, and was glad to have her in my life.

I found her yesterday and when I saw her, I knew she was gone.

You see, Annie is our calico cat who we’ve had for 11 years.

I can already see a lot of people thinking “It was a cat. Thank God. I thought it was something much worse.”

Now I don’t know if this is what you thought but I can see that logic and granted, if it had been my wife Linda, or my son Wes, or daughter Meg, it would have been unbearable. As it was, it was bad enough.

It was about 6:15 a.m. and I was trying to get out the door to go to work and I realized Annie hadn’t asked for her morning treat. For most of her life, Annie never asked for anything. Being terrified and skittish all the time doesn’t lend oneself to being very social.

My father lived with us for two years and I believe he told me that he only saw her one time in two years! She lived under my wife and my bed and would generally only come out when the light was out and we were under the covers. At that point, she would jump up and cuddle in my arms or try and wrap her body around my head. As soon as she got comfortable the “engine” would start and Annie’s loud purring would put me to sleep as she settled in and I if I could reach, would pet her.

In the last year or so I developed an allergy to something on Annie and it made it very hard to be near her but I never pushed her off the bed despite my extreme discomfort. You see, Annie had no real friends, no one to comfort her, no one to pet her. Our dog, Biscuit, would chase her if he saw her and she’d sprint under the bed. Only rarely would she come out so Linda or my kids could see her in the daylight.

Why am I telling you this?

Because there are millions of Annie’s in the world.

You see, Annie was not just my cat- she was your cat. She was your friend, daughter, cousin, friend, acquaintance… she was and is everything. You might be thinking about this time that ol’ Ray has finally cracked up. All that spirituality, psychology, and martial arts has finally set him adrift from reality – too many kicks to the head. Lol.

No.

The world is full of people, animals, and companies who are afraid. These entities continue to exist but they are spinning defenses, fears, and rationalization in so many ways that they lose touch with what is happening within and around them.

I am familiar with this type of person because I have spent a lot of my life being this type of person. I used my wonderful mind to rationalize my point of view and it made sense. Not only did it make sense, but I was also pig-headed enough to argue it very well. My fear became a crutch. The crutch became an opinion. My opinion became the truth. My fear drove my opinion/truth out into the world to try and influence and change others. All of this is from fear.

I am here to tell you that I loved that goofy, skittish, calico cat. I cried when I saw her, sobbed that morning until I left. I made it to work, taught my classes then came home. Linda, the angel that she is, bought Annie the day before a very soft mattress that she was hoping Annie would lay on next to the bed so that I could sleep.

Linda wrapped Annie in a towel and set her outside in the garden. Annie never went outside – ever. Heck, Annie never even went downstairs.

When I got home from work I had about 2 hours before I had to leave with the kids to go and teach our martial arts class. I changed my clothes, went into the garage and grabbed a shovel, then walked out back and began digging the final resting place for Annie. Once the hole was deep enough, I carefully put the new pad down in the dirt.

As I reached for Annie under the towels she blurred. She blurred in my eyesight because the tears came – hard. I cried as I gently lifted her out of the towels and carefully set her down on the pad. I arranged her so she laid sideways liked she liked and it looked like she was tucking her head under her paw.

I caressed her fur for a couple of minutes as I let the tears come.

A day later I am still learning about the magic Annie shared with all of us. Part of her magic was that she drew me in early on as she was so vulnerable yet all she wanted was to be loved. Part of her magic was allowing me to get close to her at night. Linda had said that I was her only comfort, her only love, her protector. There is something magical about loving and caring for something that needs your help.

I cried because I knew that Annie lived a very hard, scared life. I cried because I realize that I too will die someday and leave the love of my life, Linda, and the two children whom I love more than I ever thought I could love anything. In knowing the impermanence that is life, I cried because I want to drink in every moment, every conversation, and every caress.

I didn’t even cry this much for my mother and I’m not exactly sure why. It could be that my relationship with my mother was not simple, not easy, ever. My mother also had my father, my brother, and my two sisters so that when I became disconnected from the family she had other people to be supportive. Annie had no one.

There are many, many lessons that Annie taught me.

I wanted to share them with you because you too have people who love you deeply. You too have people that you deeply love.

The death of someone or something you love brings you closer to the tenuous nature that is life. It can be gone in the blink of an eye and one can wake up and a family member is no longer with us. I ask you for your sake and for the sake of those you love and love you to live richly in your heart. Draw each breath from a sacred reservoir of love and compassion because each breath you draw will be one less that you have left in this life.

I ask you to look around your world and see Annie everywhere. She’s there in your house, she’s the breeze that moves the branches of the tree outside, the drop of water on the flower, the bird that builds its nest to live in and stay warm. She is in your world everywhere. She is in your heart.

She is you.

She is me.

I love you and wish there is always someone there to hold you, comfort you, rub your head when you feel sad or sick. We are like Annie in that we are also vulnerable – if we’re honest enough to admit it. Vulnerability is not a bad thing. When shown to those who love you deeply, it is a powerfully binding thing.

Breathe and remember the Annie’s of the world. In your world and mine.

I love you Annie and miss you terribly. I look forward to seeing you in our next go-around. There’s no need to be afraid anymore. We will always be together in one form or another.