Cats are very different than dogs. They accept you and stay, or they leave. Bijoux stayed for as long as he could and then he left last week. It was not until death that I could pick him up and hold him close; he detested leaving the ground. But that short moment when I was able to hold his huge body close to mine I felt sad that I hadn't been able to hold him close sooner. He was as soft as a rabbit. A rabbit that weighed a light tonne. Holding him limp he contoured to my body and he still generated warmth. I was eager to catch his spirit, bid him goodbye, thank him for his time before he left the room for a higher place.
There really is a 'light in our eyes' and when death comes that light goes out. Nothing can revive it. When you look into it, it says: I am gone. I am gone as you knew me. I am finished. It is a look that the living can do nothing to stop. We are forced, with each death, to accept it and continue living, just like the dead did before death. Only minutes before his death Bijoux did what he loved to do most: eat. He ravenously ate his food and then retreated to a nice cool place and died. Simple really.
I have lots of funny stories to tell about Bijoux but I would rather delve into what I have learned about love through animals. As I have gotten older, I am less inclined to fight and bicker about things that mean nothing to me. What I mean is that sometimes we have to accept things for what they are rather than harping on what isn't to be. Sometimes in our fit to insist upon a different outcome we can sit back and see the huge changes that are made that are really leaps and bounds for the other. Changes made to adapt to you. Everything has a personality and cats are not in the business of doing things your way. I think the reason I love cats so much is that they are exactly the way I imagine and dream a perfect relationship with a human to be. You live side by side, you bicker here and there, but you find the love the other gives, recognize it as love, and reap in its glory even if it wasn't what you thought you wanted.
Bijoux grew so much in our time together. He went from hiding in fear every time someone came to the house (something which I hated) to not giving a care who came and went. Having lived in a skyscraper before coming to me, he was terrified of being outside, but he learned to love going outside and sat by the kitchen door each morning meowing to go out and learned how to operate the door himself to get back in. He never once came when called but if I called his name he would flick his tale as if to say: Yes, I am thinking of you too. He taught me to love him as he was. He never cuddled with me or accepted petting but he would always sit close enough that he could lick my leg with his ever wagging tail.
I did not have much interaction with Bijoux in the same manner as my former cat Milo or my present cat Arlo. Those two cats were an almost daily drama of interest and laughter. I think abused things do recovery in different ways. Milo tested me for two years wreaking havoc on my apartment: shredding curtains, chasing me around like something rabid, breaking things left and right, punching me in the head while I slept and then suddenly, after being accidentally transported in a truck to another state and being found a week later, he knew somewhere in his being that he was loved. After sleeping for a week he woke to being fiercely dedicated to my protection. Even he knew the odds were slim that he would be found again and when he was found it turned the corner on his behaviour. He became a responsible part of the household. He learned that I wasn't going and I learned that rage can be quelled with time and love. Milo had been returned to the adoption agency three times prior to my adopting him. He was returned with a litany of complaints by potential owners who couldn't accept him 'as is'. I took it as a challenge. Any behaviour has a reason behind it and he simply became a puzzle for me to figure out. Some of his behaviour was how I have felt at times. full of rage and wanting to shred something; or punch people in the head while they slept. We all get our hopes up. I tried to think of how I would feel if I had been taken home with the promise of love and then returned because the love I had wasn't wanted. I'd be hurt and angry. If it had happened three times in a row, I'd be half murderous. The loonier he became the closer I held him.
Too many people don't do that.
Humans want perfection upfront. We don't like to wait or invest time in love unless we know upfront it will work. No one trusts their heart anymore. Humans want things that are instantly identifiable so that they can just as quickly put you in your place. Most folks don't want you if they can't put you in a box that they have pre-labled with what they think you should be. People introduce themselves by what they want you to imagine is the most important thing to them. We find nothing fond about saying: This is Joe, he's a mystery to me but an interesting mystery. I never know what he will do next. But what if Joe, like Bijoux or Milo, was a mystery but one that was consistent. One that didn't leave. One that you were forced to learn and watch in a way that actually made you a better person? What if?
I've had fat cats, sickly cats, quiet cats, dumb cats and smart cats. Why would I love them more than a person with any of the same characteristics? What is it about animals that makes us more forgiving or accepting that we seem incapable of directing towards people?
I find myself accepting people, like I have my various cats, when they are overweight, have bad teeth or some other imperfection, yet I become dismissed because of mine. I had decided to accept the imperfection only to learn that I was not to be tolerated because of mine. When this happens suddenly mouthing off about the others imperfections seems warranted. Cats don't ever complain about who you are or what you look like.
I do recognize that there are people who adopt animals for the sole purpose of being seen with the right breed. And to that I say simply: I understand. They will bring that animal into a lifestyle that has that notion all the way 'round. Everything is choreographed and in its place. The dog says something about the owner, the car says something about the owner, and the owners friends say something about the owner. It's a packaged life.
I think there is a direct correlation between accepting your pet and accepting people. I want to be loved in the same way I've loved my cats. Unconditionally. I want to be given time to get to know others so I can fully flesh them out. I want others to take their time with me and see that under my exterior is a wonderful woman. A woman who can provide a good home, and if you treat me well, I will purr.
There really is a 'light in our eyes' and when death comes that light goes out. Nothing can revive it. When you look into it, it says: I am gone. I am gone as you knew me. I am finished. It is a look that the living can do nothing to stop. We are forced, with each death, to accept it and continue living, just like the dead did before death. Only minutes before his death Bijoux did what he loved to do most: eat. He ravenously ate his food and then retreated to a nice cool place and died. Simple really.
I have lots of funny stories to tell about Bijoux but I would rather delve into what I have learned about love through animals. As I have gotten older, I am less inclined to fight and bicker about things that mean nothing to me. What I mean is that sometimes we have to accept things for what they are rather than harping on what isn't to be. Sometimes in our fit to insist upon a different outcome we can sit back and see the huge changes that are made that are really leaps and bounds for the other. Changes made to adapt to you. Everything has a personality and cats are not in the business of doing things your way. I think the reason I love cats so much is that they are exactly the way I imagine and dream a perfect relationship with a human to be. You live side by side, you bicker here and there, but you find the love the other gives, recognize it as love, and reap in its glory even if it wasn't what you thought you wanted.
Bijoux grew so much in our time together. He went from hiding in fear every time someone came to the house (something which I hated) to not giving a care who came and went. Having lived in a skyscraper before coming to me, he was terrified of being outside, but he learned to love going outside and sat by the kitchen door each morning meowing to go out and learned how to operate the door himself to get back in. He never once came when called but if I called his name he would flick his tale as if to say: Yes, I am thinking of you too. He taught me to love him as he was. He never cuddled with me or accepted petting but he would always sit close enough that he could lick my leg with his ever wagging tail.
I did not have much interaction with Bijoux in the same manner as my former cat Milo or my present cat Arlo. Those two cats were an almost daily drama of interest and laughter. I think abused things do recovery in different ways. Milo tested me for two years wreaking havoc on my apartment: shredding curtains, chasing me around like something rabid, breaking things left and right, punching me in the head while I slept and then suddenly, after being accidentally transported in a truck to another state and being found a week later, he knew somewhere in his being that he was loved. After sleeping for a week he woke to being fiercely dedicated to my protection. Even he knew the odds were slim that he would be found again and when he was found it turned the corner on his behaviour. He became a responsible part of the household. He learned that I wasn't going and I learned that rage can be quelled with time and love. Milo had been returned to the adoption agency three times prior to my adopting him. He was returned with a litany of complaints by potential owners who couldn't accept him 'as is'. I took it as a challenge. Any behaviour has a reason behind it and he simply became a puzzle for me to figure out. Some of his behaviour was how I have felt at times. full of rage and wanting to shred something; or punch people in the head while they slept. We all get our hopes up. I tried to think of how I would feel if I had been taken home with the promise of love and then returned because the love I had wasn't wanted. I'd be hurt and angry. If it had happened three times in a row, I'd be half murderous. The loonier he became the closer I held him.
Too many people don't do that.
Humans want perfection upfront. We don't like to wait or invest time in love unless we know upfront it will work. No one trusts their heart anymore. Humans want things that are instantly identifiable so that they can just as quickly put you in your place. Most folks don't want you if they can't put you in a box that they have pre-labled with what they think you should be. People introduce themselves by what they want you to imagine is the most important thing to them. We find nothing fond about saying: This is Joe, he's a mystery to me but an interesting mystery. I never know what he will do next. But what if Joe, like Bijoux or Milo, was a mystery but one that was consistent. One that didn't leave. One that you were forced to learn and watch in a way that actually made you a better person? What if?
I've had fat cats, sickly cats, quiet cats, dumb cats and smart cats. Why would I love them more than a person with any of the same characteristics? What is it about animals that makes us more forgiving or accepting that we seem incapable of directing towards people?
I find myself accepting people, like I have my various cats, when they are overweight, have bad teeth or some other imperfection, yet I become dismissed because of mine. I had decided to accept the imperfection only to learn that I was not to be tolerated because of mine. When this happens suddenly mouthing off about the others imperfections seems warranted. Cats don't ever complain about who you are or what you look like.
I do recognize that there are people who adopt animals for the sole purpose of being seen with the right breed. And to that I say simply: I understand. They will bring that animal into a lifestyle that has that notion all the way 'round. Everything is choreographed and in its place. The dog says something about the owner, the car says something about the owner, and the owners friends say something about the owner. It's a packaged life.
I think there is a direct correlation between accepting your pet and accepting people. I want to be loved in the same way I've loved my cats. Unconditionally. I want to be given time to get to know others so I can fully flesh them out. I want others to take their time with me and see that under my exterior is a wonderful woman. A woman who can provide a good home, and if you treat me well, I will purr.
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