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Abstract

ependence.I know co-dependence, according to psychiatrists, is not supposed to be healthy among people, but pets and their caretakers experience co-dependence in the best way possible. They support and enable each other to function even when things aren’t perfect.I know many people judge me for my skewed values. I know I should prioritize people rather than pets, but that would be dishonest. I have to tell you that I’ve cried more for my animal friends than I’ve mourned the passing or illnesses of my parents, friends, or husband.What’s the reason for this attitude? In my experience pets are more reliable and loving than people. The unconditional love part is a given, of course, and pets are affectionate 100 percent of the time and express their gratefulness in many ways — by the wag of a tail, that famous canine smile, or the many “kisses” they bestow when you give them a toy, a bone, food, a pat, or just return home and collapse on the sofa.Compared to people, pets are much more honest. I have a trust problem. When, for example, someone lies to me — even about an insignificant thing — I lose trust in them. That puts an added burden on my mental capacities because now I need to evaluate everything they say as true or false.Animals never deceive you. If they’re in pain, they don’t just go to bed and pull the covers up. They usually find a way to show their discomfort. If they don’t like the food you’ve served them, they will refuse to eat or push the bowl away.This type of honesty scares me as much as it amazes me because I don’t always know what their pain or anorexia means, but at least I know that the symptoms I describe to the veterinarian are honest and real. They also are honest when it comes to performance. You may teach your dogs how to heel, sit, or stay, but if they don’t feel like it (the weather is hot, they hear a frightening noise, etc.), they react in honest ways and refuse to perform. I’ve heard of one dog who basically left the ring when the temperature maxed at 95 degrees.Pets also have a policy of forgiveness that people often lack. I know this for a fact because I’m one of those people who gives forgiveness sparingly or not at all, especially if the person never apologizes. Pets, particularly dogs, look you straight in the eye and ask you silently whether you intend to repeat that obnoxious behavior (such as cleaning their anal sacs or tweezing their ears).Irrespective of your behavior, they will forgive you anyway because they either know the obnoxious behavior was for their own good or you didn’t intend to cause them pain (such as stepping on their paw or falling over their out-stretched torso on the carpet).I suppose there are some things that pets won’t forgive if you do them repeatedly and with evil intent (such as chaining them to a post or not feeding them for a few days), but on the whole, pets are forgiving creatures.On the other hand, people are much less forgiving. Spew a tirade of expletives at

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someone who kept you waiting for an hour or more with no explanation and that person may never speak to you again. They are fair-weather friends who have never been emotionally invested in you so they lack the desire to forgive.Of course, because of the many positive attributes of pets, I prefer to write about them than about people. In my freelance career, I’ve had to interview people whose egos were bigger than the Grand Canyon. They were nice enough people, but for that one flaw: self-importance.Humility is in short supply in the real world of men and women. Modesty scarcely exists. But animals do not seem to recognize awards, Ivy-League colleges, or 15-page CVs. Even when they attend conformation or agility shows, dogs don’t go all braggadocio and snotty. They just sniff at the ribbon or trophy their master has happily scooped up and get on with life. People behave differently. While some individuals do not carry on as though they’ve found the cure for cancer, others — usually those whose successes are small in comparison to Nobel Awards — cannot help but insert a litany of their achievements into formal interviews or even incidental or so-called cocktail party talk.I know I’m probably part of a small minority who feels this way about pets, but every time I see a kindred spirit I instantly like that person. For example, I used to have a pet sitter who was a “bird” person. She volunteered for avian rescue organizations and even started up her own group for ducks who were injured by people or traffic. I always remember her telling me that she cried more about a bird than when her husband died of a brain tumor.When you look at life and loving through the lens of pets vs. people, you make choices that don’t always endear you to others. For example, many people cannot understand why I often travel or vacation alone. The reason is simple: I must leave a trusted person at home as a pet caretaker or else my vacation is not a vacation but an exercise in worry. My husband is the usual choice.Another — smaller — decision I’ve made is not to have the popular “doggie door.” I’ve always needed to observe my pets in the backyard in case errant poisonous mushrooms or toxin-producing frogs should pop out and threaten my canines.I’ve even chosen a final resting place based on the priority I place on my pets. I’ve cremated all my departed animals and their remains are lined up in shiny metallic and wooden urns in a corner of my house.But they will be moved eventually. In our vacation home, I’ve designated a patch of our backyard as a Memorial Garden. Right now it’s just a few bushes and some perennials, but by the time I scatter the remains of my pets, I hope it will be beautifully green and lush with nature’s bounty. I want it to be a last lovely gift to my pets because they gave me so much happiness and at times saved my dysfunctional life. I also want it to be inviting because one day if everything goes the way I plan, I wish to have my ashes scattered there as well.</article></body>

Personal Essay

Pets are Better than People

Why I Prefer Writing About Animals

I’ve spent most of my freelance life writing about topics that I care little about. And when I say “care,” it’s not that they’re unimportant, it’s that these subjects have minimal effect on my personal development, intellectual curiosity, and motivation to change.

But animals, specifically pets like dogs and cats, have been the glue that has kept me from imploding. Pet Therapy — for me, it consists of being surrounded by six or more companion animals — has kept my chronic pharmaceutically resistant depression from escalating into suicidal bouts. The knowledge that these vulnerable creatures need to be cared for to thrive gets me out of bed every morning even when I feel like burrowing under the covers.

In contrast, I don’t believe anyone in my circle of friends and therapists has actually succeeded in motivating me when I’m profoundly depressed.

That is not to say that neurotics like me cannot function. Many people can and do perform minimal self-care despite their depression, but others retreat to a metaphorical corner where they fail to eat, dress, or even walk. Pets, however, must depend on their caretakers for even the most basic things. This knowledge of complete dependence usually energizes depressed people and improves their spirits if only a little. But that small amount can make a positive difference.

On the other hand, the friends and professionals I know can prescribe meds and be sympathetic to my emotional pain, but they have never soothed me to the extent that my pets have. Just one look at my beautiful collie used to lift my spirits and coax me into hurrying for the leash to take her on an outing. And “Clara” never breathed a word about “stigma.”

One reason pet therapy works for me is that I feel responsible for my pets — -some might even say that I have a sense of over-responsibility. For instance, during the past 20 years, I’ve had a dozen or so animals, and I’ve found a way to blame myself for many of their illnesses and deaths. Guilt and self-blame are strong components of my depression, and I do agonize over each passing of a pet. This, of course, is not a soothing therapeutic technique, but rather illustrates my strong commitment and bond.

This strong bond is the foundation of friendship or intimacy, something I’ve never really developed in a close relationship with people. This may shock some individuals, but even with my husband, his autonomy precludes my complete devotion since I know he can navigate the world well without me. Our bond is strong but is based more on a partnership than dependence.

I know co-dependence, according to psychiatrists, is not supposed to be healthy among people, but pets and their caretakers experience co-dependence in the best way possible. They support and enable each other to function even when things aren’t perfect.

I know many people judge me for my skewed values. I know I should prioritize people rather than pets, but that would be dishonest. I have to tell you that I’ve cried more for my animal friends than I’ve mourned the passing or illnesses of my parents, friends, or husband.

What’s the reason for this attitude? In my experience pets are more reliable and loving than people. The unconditional love part is a given, of course, and pets are affectionate 100 percent of the time and express their gratefulness in many ways — by the wag of a tail, that famous canine smile, or the many “kisses” they bestow when you give them a toy, a bone, food, a pat, or just return home and collapse on the sofa.

Compared to people, pets are much more honest. I have a trust problem. When, for example, someone lies to me — even about an insignificant thing — I lose trust in them. That puts an added burden on my mental capacities because now I need to evaluate everything they say as true or false.

Animals never deceive you. If they’re in pain, they don’t just go to bed and pull the covers up. They usually find a way to show their discomfort. If they don’t like the food you’ve served them, they will refuse to eat or push the bowl away.

This type of honesty scares me as much as it amazes me because I don’t always know what their pain or anorexia means, but at least I know that the symptoms I describe to the veterinarian are honest and real. They also are honest when it comes to performance. You may teach your dogs how to heel, sit, or stay, but if they don’t feel like it (the weather is hot, they hear a frightening noise, etc.), they react in honest ways and refuse to perform. I’ve heard of one dog who basically left the ring when the temperature maxed at 95 degrees.

Pets also have a policy of forgiveness that people often lack. I know this for a fact because I’m one of those people who gives forgiveness sparingly or not at all, especially if the person never apologizes. Pets, particularly dogs, look you straight in the eye and ask you silently whether you intend to repeat that obnoxious behavior (such as cleaning their anal sacs or tweezing their ears).

Irrespective of your behavior, they will forgive you anyway because they either know the obnoxious behavior was for their own good or you didn’t intend to cause them pain (such as stepping on their paw or falling over their out-stretched torso on the carpet).

I suppose there are some things that pets won’t forgive if you do them repeatedly and with evil intent (such as chaining them to a post or not feeding them for a few days), but on the whole, pets are forgiving creatures.

On the other hand, people are much less forgiving. Spew a tirade of expletives at someone who kept you waiting for an hour or more with no explanation and that person may never speak to you again. They are fair-weather friends who have never been emotionally invested in you so they lack the desire to forgive.

Of course, because of the many positive attributes of pets, I prefer to write about them than about people. In my freelance career, I’ve had to interview people whose egos were bigger than the Grand Canyon. They were nice enough people, but for that one flaw: self-importance.

Humility is in short supply in the real world of men and women. Modesty scarcely exists. But animals do not seem to recognize awards, Ivy-League colleges, or 15-page CVs. Even when they attend conformation or agility shows, dogs don’t go all braggadocio and snotty. They just sniff at the ribbon or trophy their master has happily scooped up and get on with life. People behave differently. While some individuals do not carry on as though they’ve found the cure for cancer, others — usually those whose successes are small in comparison to Nobel Awards — cannot help but insert a litany of their achievements into formal interviews or even incidental or so-called cocktail party talk.

I know I’m probably part of a small minority who feels this way about pets, but every time I see a kindred spirit I instantly like that person. For example, I used to have a pet sitter who was a “bird” person. She volunteered for avian rescue organizations and even started up her own group for ducks who were injured by people or traffic. I always remember her telling me that she cried more about a bird than when her husband died of a brain tumor.

When you look at life and loving through the lens of pets vs. people, you make choices that don’t always endear you to others. For example, many people cannot understand why I often travel or vacation alone. The reason is simple: I must leave a trusted person at home as a pet caretaker or else my vacation is not a vacation but an exercise in worry. My husband is the usual choice.

Another — smaller — decision I’ve made is not to have the popular “doggie door.” I’ve always needed to observe my pets in the backyard in case errant poisonous mushrooms or toxin-producing frogs should pop out and threaten my canines.

I’ve even chosen a final resting place based on the priority I place on my pets. I’ve cremated all my departed animals and their remains are lined up in shiny metallic and wooden urns in a corner of my house.

But they will be moved eventually. In our vacation home, I’ve designated a patch of our backyard as a Memorial Garden. Right now it’s just a few bushes and some perennials, but by the time I scatter the remains of my pets, I hope it will be beautifully green and lush with nature’s bounty. I want it to be a last lovely gift to my pets because they gave me so much happiness and at times saved my dysfunctional life. I also want it to be inviting because one day if everything goes the way I plan, I wish to have my ashes scattered there as well.