What I loved most about this post were the questions raised.
WHY do we helplessly love some creatures so much more than others? WHY do we form these intense relationships with our pets when we KNOW they will likely die before us and it will feel like the worst thing that ever happened? And is it possible to love all creatures equally?
I know that to love all of creation without preference or favoritism is to be enlightened or god-like. And I can imagine how wonderful it would feel—to totally delight in every living being that one encounters. There is also sort of guilt involved and knowing that one is falling short, when we put things on a scale and have favorites. On the other hand, having favorites is also so much fun!
I am rambling here. I love current dog friend, Minnie, so much I don't know what to do. And she really loves me. Having this intense connection with a creature of a different species is really quite bizarre. But there it is!
I can so relate to this, thank you. Tears are flowing again for my dearest little friend of all the world Fifi. We have rescued many dogs and I love them all, but Fifi was beyond compare. She was not taken by disease prematurely like Elsie was, but instead lived to a grand old age and one day just looked up at me as if to say, "I have to go now Mum" Love and miss you every day my darling girl.
I love the couple of throughlines woven together in this essay. I am a single mother of two, and grew up with dogs, and found it so relatable. Very accurate characterizations of grief.
Thank you. Not many--even within my circles of activist comrades--fully embrace the social justice/animal/environment nexus. Zoe Weil knows the interconnection. The horrors we allow for any being, any misperceived "otherness," we condone for all--with all its consequences.
The most elegant statement of this, I think, is still by Tolstoy: "As long as there are slaughterhouses there will be battlefields."
Because. They, as are we, are all different. And Every emotion, too, has its different level of intensity and duration. Anger, grief, joy. It is normal. No two alike. Just like snowflakes. Just like our favorite tree… There can be close in likeness, but no identical.
But that one life. The life that looks us in the eye and says that “ You are mine “. And then elicits the same response from us. There is nothing to be done for it. It is a bond that forever stands outside all others…forever.
Deeply meaningful and beautiful. It does bring up the question of different depths of love. I was a wildlife rehabilitator and have had several disabled squirrels as family members. The second one I had was Wheezer, he deeply slipped right to my heart. He had an accident at age three and passed. He was my soul mate. I can't explain why. To this day I can cry thinking of his passing (It has been 17 years!). I have had three squirrels since Wheezer, I loved them all, but not like Wheezer. Sometimes I wonder if these animals were with us in pass lives.....who knows? :)
Thanks for the lovely article about he deep love of companion animals. I'm sure many, if not most, people have favorite animals or children, but people don't talk about that. It's great that you've shared your thoughts and experiences.
I have only loved one dog, and at my age won’t have the chance to love many more. So Zoe’s reflections on dogs got me thinking about humans--specifically my sister and me, loved in very different ways by our mother. My sister struck more notes than I did on the scale of maternal emotion. This wasn’t okay to young me, but my perspective has changed. What we call “love,” as if it were a unitary thing, takes many forms. Thank you, Zoe, for your insight, and Jane for publishing it here.
thank you for sharing. This resonates so true, as grief over people as well as pets has been at the center of my journey to freedom. Fortunately, not all cultures shy away form the dying, and grief.
I have always been a dog person, oh, we had cats as well. I just didn't communicate with them as well. My husband passed away 10 years ago, leaving me with my loving and lovable Golden Retriever, and two cats. I poured my tears in to ZuZu's coat, and she would comfort me for days on end. The cats? Well they're cats. What did I know. I fed them, I pet them, and I was grateful for their service in keeping my home mouse free. One year after my husband passed, I went home, opened the door, slightly wondering why my precious ZuZu wasn't charing to see me. But I had to make the dash to the bathroom. When I came out, and I looked for her, I found her. She lay still at the front door. My two cats were gently circling her. I couldn't take in that she had passed, yet she had.
For days, all I could think of was how I would be coming home to an even more empty house. The thought was crippling. But doors close and doors open. When I left the house and came back one afternoon, my cats, who never use to come and greet me, did. And they taught me their language. I believe this all happens when we are willing to make space for the grief and the love that are in fact ,indivisible. It all leaves me with the thought that perhaps we simply love, and often that love seems quantatative only because of language.
Death is what make life so valuable. Sad but true.
I lost my 9 yo dog Buddy last summer while recovering from cancer and my subsequent stem cell transplant. It was difficult, but I was helped by my contemplation of death in the 10 months prior to Buddy's death.
There is only the present, you cannot control the past at all, and you can only prepare for what you expect the future to bring. I am comforted by my family, my wife and my two dogs I have left Poppy, and Honey Dog.
What I loved most about this post were the questions raised.
WHY do we helplessly love some creatures so much more than others? WHY do we form these intense relationships with our pets when we KNOW they will likely die before us and it will feel like the worst thing that ever happened? And is it possible to love all creatures equally?
I know that to love all of creation without preference or favoritism is to be enlightened or god-like. And I can imagine how wonderful it would feel—to totally delight in every living being that one encounters. There is also sort of guilt involved and knowing that one is falling short, when we put things on a scale and have favorites. On the other hand, having favorites is also so much fun!
I am rambling here. I love current dog friend, Minnie, so much I don't know what to do. And she really loves me. Having this intense connection with a creature of a different species is really quite bizarre. But there it is!
I can so relate to this, thank you. Tears are flowing again for my dearest little friend of all the world Fifi. We have rescued many dogs and I love them all, but Fifi was beyond compare. She was not taken by disease prematurely like Elsie was, but instead lived to a grand old age and one day just looked up at me as if to say, "I have to go now Mum" Love and miss you every day my darling girl.
You touched my heart and helped express the inexpressible times when special animals steal our heart and then own them forever. Thank you for sharing.
I love the couple of throughlines woven together in this essay. I am a single mother of two, and grew up with dogs, and found it so relatable. Very accurate characterizations of grief.
Thank you. Not many--even within my circles of activist comrades--fully embrace the social justice/animal/environment nexus. Zoe Weil knows the interconnection. The horrors we allow for any being, any misperceived "otherness," we condone for all--with all its consequences.
The most elegant statement of this, I think, is still by Tolstoy: "As long as there are slaughterhouses there will be battlefields."
Because. They, as are we, are all different. And Every emotion, too, has its different level of intensity and duration. Anger, grief, joy. It is normal. No two alike. Just like snowflakes. Just like our favorite tree… There can be close in likeness, but no identical.
But that one life. The life that looks us in the eye and says that “ You are mine “. And then elicits the same response from us. There is nothing to be done for it. It is a bond that forever stands outside all others…forever.
Deeply meaningful and beautiful. It does bring up the question of different depths of love. I was a wildlife rehabilitator and have had several disabled squirrels as family members. The second one I had was Wheezer, he deeply slipped right to my heart. He had an accident at age three and passed. He was my soul mate. I can't explain why. To this day I can cry thinking of his passing (It has been 17 years!). I have had three squirrels since Wheezer, I loved them all, but not like Wheezer. Sometimes I wonder if these animals were with us in pass lives.....who knows? :)
Thanks for the lovely article about he deep love of companion animals. I'm sure many, if not most, people have favorite animals or children, but people don't talk about that. It's great that you've shared your thoughts and experiences.
I was so moved by your description of Elsie. I had to put down my phone and give my cat a hug.
I have only loved one dog, and at my age won’t have the chance to love many more. So Zoe’s reflections on dogs got me thinking about humans--specifically my sister and me, loved in very different ways by our mother. My sister struck more notes than I did on the scale of maternal emotion. This wasn’t okay to young me, but my perspective has changed. What we call “love,” as if it were a unitary thing, takes many forms. Thank you, Zoe, for your insight, and Jane for publishing it here.
My heart cries and smiles with you. Thank you.
Judith
thank you for sharing. This resonates so true, as grief over people as well as pets has been at the center of my journey to freedom. Fortunately, not all cultures shy away form the dying, and grief.
I have always been a dog person, oh, we had cats as well. I just didn't communicate with them as well. My husband passed away 10 years ago, leaving me with my loving and lovable Golden Retriever, and two cats. I poured my tears in to ZuZu's coat, and she would comfort me for days on end. The cats? Well they're cats. What did I know. I fed them, I pet them, and I was grateful for their service in keeping my home mouse free. One year after my husband passed, I went home, opened the door, slightly wondering why my precious ZuZu wasn't charing to see me. But I had to make the dash to the bathroom. When I came out, and I looked for her, I found her. She lay still at the front door. My two cats were gently circling her. I couldn't take in that she had passed, yet she had.
For days, all I could think of was how I would be coming home to an even more empty house. The thought was crippling. But doors close and doors open. When I left the house and came back one afternoon, my cats, who never use to come and greet me, did. And they taught me their language. I believe this all happens when we are willing to make space for the grief and the love that are in fact ,indivisible. It all leaves me with the thought that perhaps we simply love, and often that love seems quantatative only because of language.
Thank you so much!
Death is what make life so valuable. Sad but true.
I lost my 9 yo dog Buddy last summer while recovering from cancer and my subsequent stem cell transplant. It was difficult, but I was helped by my contemplation of death in the 10 months prior to Buddy's death.
There is only the present, you cannot control the past at all, and you can only prepare for what you expect the future to bring. I am comforted by my family, my wife and my two dogs I have left Poppy, and Honey Dog.