Treasure the Moment, Despair the Century

          I'm currently reading a most excellent book, "Animals as Guides for the Soul", by Susan Chernak McElroy, which has already twice put me into tears, as promised by the eBay seller. It recounts the profound impact animals can have upon humans.

          I credit the members of my own menagerie for countless times bringing me up short from anger or depression with a deep, yellow eyed look, or merry antic. While the house may smell like a cat barn presently (we have a kitten, soon to be fixed, who has lent to my depression with her less than charming in-heat habits of urinating on everything...and since a cat can get everywhere, I do mean EVERYTHING...), and the dogs have a tendency to treat the floor as their personal toilet, still the extra work is an insignificant price to tender for the pure joy of the warm, heavy head on the knee, the peaceful brown-eyed gaze, or the fierce secret elation in my Nazi dog's overprotective behaviour. I can't imagine a home without my furry friends; the rumbling purrs accompanied by the inscrutable, slit-eyed trance faces, the weight on the quilt, the early morning jingle of dogtags as my companions warn me that I'd best drag my sleepy self out of bed to greet the day or else. With an intent stare or roaring bark, they bring my attention to things that I may have missed otherwise-wildlife at the forest's edge, strangers at the door.

         Animal lovers are generally people that I wish to know. They are kinder, more forgiving, and mellower folks, save the hard-core Animal Rights activists, who have a tendency to be a little grating in their overwhelming enthusiasm. (It's been my experience that many people involved in A Good Cause possess this overweaning zeal that makes sane folk froth in rage. But that's a separate rant for another day.) It's easy to strike up a fulfilling conversation with a person who has their dog with them; the chances are excellent they will share my empathy for the four-footed ones.

          The author of this book brings up an interesting conundrum faced by animal lovers everywhere. How can we profess our love for animals, yet eat them? In many cultures, any animal is fit for the stewpot. Also, in many countries, animals slated for consumption are raised in horrible circumstances, that, were they visited upon humans, would arouse a deafening outcry. We have come to realize that animals raised free-range, with access to a broad spectrum of nourishment, make for a more wholesome food product, but still the almighty dollar causes farmers to raise cattle in atrocious circumstances which we, the consumer, can continue to blissfully ignore, since the product comes to us butchered and wrapped in styrofoam and plastic.

          Today it occurred to me that it behooves me to raise my own animals and get over the horror of slaughter that American society has only become imbued with within the last 150 years. Before the Industrial Revolution, the slaughter of animals for food was accepted as the necessity it is. I think the Native Americans had the right idea when they said a prayer of thanks to the slain animal for its generosity in being sacrificed so that they could continue. It is unnatural for humans to not eat meat-we are omnivorous, and for us to remain vigorously alive, it is necessary that another creature must die. It is a basic fact of life that we cannot escape, and cannot wholly replace with protein substitutes derived from plants. Besides, can we say irrevocably that plants don't feel the pain of being plucked, stewed, and chewed? Death is an immutable link in the cycle of life.

          At some point in time, someone developed and propounded the notion that humans are apart from, and superior to, the rest of the animal kingdom. To my eye, it is more proper to say that we are ALL animals; humans have merely been blessed (or cursed) with greater sentience and intelligence.

         Mainstream religions would have us believe that the beloved dog who daily lived the finer tenets of the Ten Commandments is not fit to enter Heaven. What a terribly bland place Heaven would be then, and how bored God would be! I prefer to believe that, not only does Heaven have birds cheerily announcing the morn from the virgin canopy, but God has created even more wonderful beasties to greet the worthy. And here's a heretical thought for you-why should God have created only man in his image? A being beyond our comprehension is beyond our comprehension, and so I propose He/She created all of life in His/Her image-the trees, the creeping worm, the shambling bipeds, and the furry quadripeds.

          I have a foundling baby squirrel that I have been feeding with a syringe for about a week now. For the past few days, he has been in my boyfriend's daughter's room to keep him safe, and away, from the cats. When he is awake and ready for some grub, he begins to scrabble about, his tiny, sharp claws making scritching noises on his cardboard box. Early this morning, Rachel came into our bedroom to sleepily announce that Nutty Buddy (or Squirrel Nuts, or Francis The Squirrel, or Frankie T. Squirrel) was awake, and then added "I don't think I like the squirrel anymore."

         This statement from an individual typifies our behaviour as a species. Too many of us do what is convenient for us, and not what is best for this beautiful planet we live on. Rachel was initially charmed with this little morsel of mortality, feeding him, taking pictures to share with her friends, and worrying about him. But one early morning disturbance too many elicited the above statement, indicative of our tendency to consider ourselves first. Her rest became more important to her than Francis's little life, which is still dependent upon the care of a more mature animal for preservation. I like my sleep, too, but I have a responsibility to get up, prepare his breakfast, feed him, and clean him. A side benefit is my trembling joy in this miniscule miracle's grasping greediness for nourishment, and thus life.

         This same lust for individual gratification over general welfare is exhibited by human society. We carve the land into plots that we set personal claim to and lay down black roads that threaten wildlife. Francis fell out of his tree into my road, and locally, the black racer snake has become endangered because his natural territory often encompasses several acres-acres ravaged by human development, and crisscrossed with killing roads. Globally, we destroy entire ecosystems for their natural resources, while, despite growing awareness, doing very little to recycle or preserve natural resources harvested by previous generations.

         Mother Nature has a tendency to even out the scales in her own way. History tells of epidemics that have demolished populations, and my prediction is that one of these is hurtling our way shortly. The human population is fast becoming one that the planet cannot support. With our heedless, one-way consumption, so contrary to Nature's ways, as a species we exhibit the devastating behaviour of parasites as opposed to the role we should be performing as guardians of the lesser species. Individuals are aware, but still society eats, and eats, and eats, yet not even producing honest manure to give back to the patient earth.

         So I treasure the moment-the wee squirrel, the cats, the dogs, the birds in the trees...but I despair the century.