Sunday, November 10, 2013
Pine Buff, Arkansas

Thank goodness for the critters who add to our lives that which can come from no other source.  Though the domesticated critters are closest to us, the wild ones provide succor for the troubled soul as well.  Though few will admit it, most of us at one time or another fall in the “troubled soul” genre whether we want it or not.  It’s part of being a human being on this imperfect planet with its imperfect societal and personal collection of morasses.  It’s also why the Almighty sent us these vessels of relief.

Cleo with the Long Name

When you wake up in the morning and look a 110-pound Rottweiler square in the eyes, and she seems to be saying “Oh goody-goody-goody, you woke up, just what I’ve been waiting for, can we go outside pretty-please?” it is hard to feel ill at the world.  She exacerbates any misguided guilt by adding some serious nub wagging.  Meet Celopatra Shamika Beatrice Glover-Dempsey, AKA “Cleo.”

Denizen of the Oak

Our yard has a lot of board-feet of mature oak, most of which are homes to Fox and Gray squirrel communities.  They seem to get along just fine (there’s a lesson there).  My wife is their benefactor as she keeps a smorgasbord available for them most of the time.  As a reward, they provide entertainment for us.  On the flip side, they provide a sense of frustration for our cats, whose attempts to catch them have been a 100 per cent failure.  I suspect if one of these domestic cats caught a live squirrel, they would learn a lesson of avoidance in the future.

Kodakamus Orlando Junior the Third AKA Kodak

Our critters continue to warm us with their memories.  This is the late Kodakamus Orlando Glover-Dempsey, Junior, the Third, AKA “Kodak.”  Kodak tolerated most people, but for me, he was a loyal and attentive companion.
 
I composed a song to call him as he matured from kitten to his full 13-and-a-half-pound cat mass.  When I pulled the truck in the driveway, rolled the window down, and sang the Kodak song, most of the time a yellow tabby streak zipped to the carport to welcome me back to our mutual lair.  One of his greatest pleasures was curling up close by as I read my books.
 
Last year, Kodak began to show the inevitable signs of the clock catching up with him.  And then one day, he was down to the last of his nine lives, and went somewhere and spent it.  It is not sad, it is reality — and a lot of good memories of time well spent.

Critter therapy is good for the soul.  If they are close by, take a look.  If they are at your feet, give ‘em a scratch and say thank you.  If you have neither, seek out an animal encounter.  In the words of Henny Youngman, “it can’t hoit.”