On any given day, growing up on a farm wasn’t all that different from being raised in the city. I had all of the expected hallmarks of a young girl; overly concerned parents, schoolwork that I tried to avoid, and the endless list of chores that came with living on a twenty five acre farm. Although the scenery was different, I was living in a community where even the daily handing of hay was as humdrum as breathing, and for all the beauty around me I was just another kid.
Walking on dampened trails, collecting wild fruits and daydreams, I tried to guess which paw and claw prints belonged to my shy friends in the nearby forest. In the open fields I would happen upon wispy red foxes who would sometimes spare me a grin before bounding away from their game of catch-the-mouse. I always wished I’d been invited. I delighted at the chance to mimic songbird calls with a little yellow whistle, but my favorite birds were the pheasants who searched for their breakfast among the morning dew.
Despite my nearness to nature, I found out early on that caring for animals isn’t always easy. Farm chores are tedious, and over the years I made my way through all sorts of troublesome animal-related tasks. I learned how to brave the pointed pecking of a mother hen as I collected her eggs. When we rented out pasture to a local equine owner I was delighted at the idea of the farm’s first horse, but I couldn’t ride an animal I didn’t own, and the glamor of brushing a dusty coat doesn’t last forever. When we got a companion for the elderly quarterhorse the fun wore off in record time. Nobody knows how to escape a fence, and stay loose, like a goat.
Even though I dealt with animals daily, I didn’t notice how special they could be until I got my very first cat, a tortiseshell called Shadow. In her prime she would bring me presents of partially devoured prey, paint my bed sheets in the artful patterns with her muddy paws, and clean her toes on the top of my blankets. She was exuberant in both her work and her play, fiercely independent and deeply affectionate. I spent many nights curled up alone with a fantasy novel only to end up with a paperback full of tooth-holes. No book was too big to keep that cat at bay. Finally she would nestle close and rest, her purrs filling me with warmth and worth.
But as time passed my life took on other shapes, and I began to lose my connection to animals. When I moved away from the country I no longer saw my wild friends on weekly walks or daily drives. Instead, even as I tried to ignore it, I came to know the reality that cats and dogs face out in the city. While I often saw the farm as a harmonious place for humans and animals, city life proved far harsher. More often than not the cats were skinny and scruffy, abandoned at best and abused at worst.
Eventually my experiences in the city served as a reminder of the life that I’d left behind at the farm. Where I had once failed to appreciate the menial chores and daily interactions, I came to understand what I was missing. Chickens have never been my favorite creatures, but even they have personalities unique to their beings. My little brother even had a favorite hen that would come to him for attention and petting. The old horse who I had tirelessly tried to brush was one of the gentlest souls I’d ever met. The goat inspired a lot of chasing, but for as many times as she got out of her fence she would never stray far. She treasured Sonny the horse, and would bleat mournfully whenever he was taken from her presence.
In their own way, they were just as inspiring as their wild cousins. They felt, and cared just as deeply as we did. And just like seeing the season’s deer bedded down in the soft grass from the glow of our farmhouse, at times they were nothing less than magical. I could never forget the oppressive situations that those city cats ended up facing every day, and the more I learn about the ordeals that animals face the more inspired I am to create a change that betters their future. Animals add so much depth and value to our own lives. They are not only deserving of our help, they are deserving of our love.
Pawsitive Presence 