Away to Me

Feb. 2nd, 2011 04:02 pm
kragore: (Default)
While I own a pet, I am more than a pet owner. I am the steward of another living being's life.

From the day we accept the responsibility of their care, we also accept that we may be called to make their final decision. We play with them, care for them, comfort them when they are ill, feed them and nourish them in body and in mind.

They look to us for safety and well being. There are many who would say, "I want them to live as long as possible - I want them to die naturally."
That, in my eyes, is a fool's wish and a coward's excuse.

There is nothing natural about a pet's existence. Domestic cats revert to feral pretty rapidly, but their quality of life in that state is not what society currently find acceptable for a pet. There are no wild herds of majestic Holsteins roaming the plains. No wild packs of King Charles Spaniels carrying out the circle of life in the wilderness.

We have selectively bred domestic animals for our use - for our enjoyment and pleasure. As a result, we have an innate and irrefutable responsibility to them.

To hope that they simply die peacefully in their sleep of old age is an idyllic endgame we hope for all of our beloved charges. This is very often not reality.
The reality is much more grim - a sickness that can't be cured, a pain that can not be alleviated.

As the steward of this small life, we have the power and reasoning ability to choose to prolong their life, or end it with simple, quiet dignity.

This is a gift. The one last greatest kindness we can afford them. A kindness we can't even share with our own kind.
After contemplation of their quality vs quantity of life, it is us, the owners, who have to make that choice. The pets can tell you in so many unspoken ways when it is their time, but it is the owner who must bear the terrible, beautiful responsibility of carrying it out.

There will always, always be questions after wards. Did I do the right thing? Was it the right time? Was there anything else I could have done?
But there is comfort in a life well lived, and a life well tended. If you have done what you can within your means to make that creature's life comfortable, with little fear, and a treat and pat on the head once in a while - that is the accumulation of good.

"Away to me, lad," the shepherds call.
And so it goes - Away to me. Comforted by the thought that we've always tried to do right by our mute beasts.


Jun. 29th, 2006 08:44 am
kragore: (Default)
I, BruNO, don't like Boomers.

I have to tell everyone, loudly, that the Boomers are Coming! The Boomers are Coming! Bark bark bark bark woof!

And then I crawl under one of the people's legs, if they're sitting, or standing or laying down, in their cosy beds. I need the protection of the legs. All 105 lbs of me. (I lost my winter weight!)
Because humans protect me from the Boomers.
Sometimes the humans rub my ears and talk to me quietly, and then I can't hear the Boomers, and having my ears rubbed feels sooo good, I get distracted and fall asleep.

But I have to tell them they are coming, loudly, in the middle of the night.
Because obviously, the passive humans and will let them pass unnoticed.

kragore: (Default)
Yes, BruNO,
I understand we must be protected from the evil Bambi that might come eat your bologna, or defile your Kong.
But really, the hysterical barking, and the chasing of the Bambi
(although, to be fair to BruNO, he only chased Bambi out of "His" territory, and then came right home, to lovingly caress Kong)
is really not acceptable.

We got a stern dress down when we got back to the house, I tell you what.

But the house is that much safer, from malicious deer, and butterflies, and bumblebees, and turkeys.
Damn provocative turkeys.

- k.
kragore: (photo)
news cause I'm bored. )
kragore: (Default)
I have discovered that if you throw kong,
and throw kong,
and take BruNO for a swim,
and throw kong some more,
and then go for a really long walk,
and then throw kong some more,
you can sufficiently wear out the pooch so that harassing me while trying to edge the flower beds isn't all too enticing.

He's one whupped pooch, currently snoring, upside down, in the living room.

- k.
kragore: (Default)
BruNO has learned that when Mom is in the kitchen, it is safer for him to be not.
He's still safe if he sits in the threshold between the kitchen and the living room, or the kitchen and the dining room.
From there, he can see Everything. Including Everything the Falls from the Sky, into his rightful domain, the floor.

He now sits, and waits, intently watching the dropped thing (oatmeal, carrots, grapes, burger, lettuce, bread, chili, etc., it doesn't matter, it's His,) until Mom says "Ok, BruNO, Clean!" at which point he scoots in, cleans up the dropped food item, considers it a great treat, and scoots back to the threshold, and waits... because it's only a matter of time before his powers can be used for good again.

- k.


kragore: (Default)

February 2017

19202122 232425


RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

  • Style: Fanya for Ciel by nornoriel

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 19th, 2017 11:31 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios