A Favorite Pet. Is It Possible?

By Courtney Pierce

Pets.

At the mention of the word, our thoughts immediately summon images of goofy videos posted on social media. You know the ones: kittens falling asleep in mid-play, puppies that go crazy gazing at themselves in a mirror, or dogs and cats interacting hilariously with babies, squirrels, and birds. These displays alleviate our tensions, a “paws” in the stresses of daily life. We all need an awwwww moment.

We humanize our fuzzy buddies because pets act the way we want our fellow humans to act—fiercely loyal, open with their emotions, and always telling the truth. It simply feels good. Even when pets misbehave or have a mishap, pets come clean and narc on themselves.

A pet’s energy fills a room. Even when they’re sleeping, their meter is running a surveillance system on the family’s well-being. Just when we need some TLC, they’ll crawl into our lap and administer the salve of licking our hands. A return stroke of their fur releases a loud purr or a groan of satisfaction. Miraculously, our heart rates slow with the rush of healing endorphins.

And when we lose a pet, the resulting grief mirrors losing a close family member. This Christmas, our family will be down one important member, our dear Princeton. He crossed the Rainbow Bridge on December 8^th. As a rescue, years ago, we weren’t really sure of his true age, but we did know he was over twenty.

Princeton wasn’t just a cat. He was super smart, full of vocal insistence, and lived to be loved. His silky pure-white fur went with us everywhere, especially on a pair of black pants. Princeton had a big personality and a precocious sense of humor, always underfoot and sneaking into my seat when I vacated to get a refill of something. When I’d return, he’d pretend to be sound asleep with one eye open. Hmmmm . . .

As a result of his albino coloring, Princeton had impaired hearing and eyesight. That didn’t stop him, though, from having a keen sixth sense about everything. He knew every detail of what we said and did while he was “sleeping". An inner atomic clock was precise for our arrival through the front door, meal delivery, and when we woke up and went to bed.

It's been a few weeks since his passing, but I still stroll down the pet food aisle at the grocery store to check out new offerings Princeton might have liked. This, of course, is an act of self-torture to make sure I don’t water down the impact of his death. I never want to forget the enormity of his spirit. I’ve been purposely avoiding removing the leather cushions from the couch to vacuum, simply because I know I’ll find a stash of sparkly balls and stuffed mice.

Out of habit, the front door is never left open when I unload the groceries, so trained am I that Princeton might wander out to the porch. He did a few times, only to stand there and sniff a woodsy aroma riding on the breeze. Extremely spoiled, Princeton knew he had a good deal. He’d stroll back inside with no more than a finger-wag and a nudge.

The humanization of our pets is rooted in their ability to feel empathy and reason at lightning speed. In some ways, pets are more in tune with their animal instincts than we are. Humans are animals too, but in many ways our companions are wiser to the universe’s infinite processes. Animals know when they’re failing and embrace their grand shut-down: refusal to eat or drink, gravitation toward a heat source, quest for sleep, and a quest to be held. This painful reminder of our own human mortality is actually a good thing.

I’m holding on tight to all of these emotions to fuel my development of Big Sky Talk, my latest book project. I don’t want to let go of the pining, that lump in my throat, or the heart squeeze that suddenly comes on.

At the time we lost Princeton, I had a sudden sense of urgency with the realization that time is short. In the spirit of Christmas, I wanted to impact the lives of others in a positive way. Seemingly simple acts of benevolence satisfied my aching heart. I slipped a handmade gift in my neighbors’ mailbox and bought toys to donate to those less fortunate. My sister and I conspired to adopt a Maine Coon kitten named Sally to surprise our 86-year-old mother. Mom had been crushed by the recent losing her cat too. And if Sally should outlive my mother, she will have a home with my sister or me.

In this Christmas season of turbulent times, I am heartened by the rise of human spirit and the renewal that bursts forth from loss. Surely it was no accident that the once-in-800-year alignment of Jupiter and Saturn occurred on December 21^st. This rare celestial event creates a unique and sacred light.

The Star of Bethlehem.

Courtney Pierce is a fiction writer living in Kalispell, Montana with her husband and stepdaughter. She writes for the baby boomer audience. She spent 28 years as an executive in the entertainment industry and used her time in a theater seat to create stories that are filled with heart, humor, and mystery. She studied craft and storytelling at the Attic Institute and has completed the Hawthorne Fellows Program for writing and publishing. Active in the writing community, Courtney is a board member of the Northwest Independent Writers Association and on the Advisory Council of the Independent Publishing Resource Center. She is a member of Willamette Writers, Pacific Northwest Writers Association, and Authors of the Flathead. The Executrix received the Library Journal Self-E recommendation seal.

Print and E-books are available through most major online retailers, including Amazon.com.

Check out all of Courtney's books: 

courtney-pierce.com and windtreepress.com 

New York Times best-selling author Karen Karbo says, "Courtney Pierce spins a madcap tale of family grudges, sisterly love, unexpected romance, mysterious mobsters and dog love. Reading Indigo Lake is like drinking champagne with a chaser of Mountain Dew. Pure Delight."

Coming in 2021!

When Aubrey Cenderon moves to Montana after the death of her father, the peace and quiet of Big Sky Country becomes complicated with a knock on the door from the sheriff. An injured grizzly bear is on the loose and it must be eliminated before it kills again. The sheriff's insistence that she buy a gun for protection will present Aubrey with some serious soul-searching, because the grizzly-on-the-run is hunting her too . . . for a different reason.