The Quiet Ways Pets Shape My Life

There’s something beautifully steady about life at home with my companion animals (the current count is 9 but has been as high as 16 in the past). My dogs, cats, rabbits don’t rush through their day. Their schedule is set by repetition, and they react only to changes in their routine. They notice changes in meal-time, temperature, precipitation, noise, deliveries to the front door, and especially my absence. They are always waiting for me; I am their caregiver and the perpetual center of their universe. They know the set routine - it is their clock; it lets them know "hey, it's morning" (here comes breakfast) or "hey, it's raining" (Mom, will rush us to not get wet), and "hey, Mom is working upstairs" (they hear me & I listen for them) or "hey, Mom is gone for awhile, but she will be back soon" (she told us on her way out, and she is reliable), and finally, "yay, it's dinnertime, our favorite part of the day!" (because Mom sits with us to watch television & shares morsels from her plate with us). My companions have hovered near in quiet moments that might otherwise go unnoticed - the fledging of the baby bluebirds from the backyard nest box or the blooming of the gardenias. They have comforted me in the loss of my friends and their brethren, allowing me to cry into their shaggy necks, and over time, without asking for anything more than my presence, they have become an important part of my life's rhythm.

My pets are more than mainstays in my home, they are my trusted life companions. If I go for a walk, they are ready to go, too - no matter their aches and pains or limp. If I go outside with a container of seeds and millet, they know I am feeding the birds & romp excitedly in circles. If I say the magical words, "car ride", they have won the lottery. They are my emotional buoys, holding me up and bobbing along beside me, no matter how choppy the waters. They are my safe harbor - and I am theirs. They constantly communicate that I am needed. Even more, they communicate that I am wanted - something an empty-nest mother never feels enough anymore.

Each morning, they meet me where I am, whether that is joy, stress, or somewhere comfortably in between. Lily lying at my feet while Wilder paws for more pets, and Frankie purring while basking in the patchy window sunlight, accompanied by the soft hay-munching sounds of the rabbits — this soundtrack so elemental for me it should be a top-tier component of the periodic table. It fulfills a lonely empty space not suited for substitutes. Their presence reminds me to slow down, connect with their sweet spirits and to be fully available to them.

In a world that moves quickly, in extreme unexpected ways, upsetting our personal equilibrium and trust, the kind of dependable presence pets bring to my life deeply matters and is held dear. They shape my life in a myriad of ways, and they have shaped me, too. The way I care, the way I take notice, the way I attempt to be a healer, the way I love without condition.

Because of that, it feels natural to reflect them in the spaces we share, the things I adorn that space with, sometimes in what I wear, and the art surrounding the heart of this home.

Not just as decoration, but as a quiet acknowledgment of something deeply true:

These lives, shared with me, matter. And they always will.