This is Yves. Richard Eskow has been an occasional correspondent and I was sorry to hear of the death of his cat. But more importantly, I suspect that many who have lost an animal friend feel the same kind of ambivalence he describes: that it seems wrong to be so devastated by the death of a (mere) pet as people all over the world are receiving it. of vicious and unnecessary tragedies, starting with the Israeli genocide in Gaza.
By Richard (RJ) Eskow, journalist who has written for several major publications. His weekly show, The Zero Hour, is available on cable TV, radio, Spotify and podcasts. Originally published on Common dreams
The ancient Sumerians had a proverb: “A loving heart builds houses.” I’ve thought about this several times since a member of our household, a cat, died last month. People who think cats are indifferent or self-centered would have been amazed at the depth of this one’s compassion and love. She built houses.
I was a little reluctant to admit how much I mourned him. Who am I to cry so much for a little creature? Am I weak? Self-indulgent? This led me to look at psychology articles about the experience of losing a pet, or what some therapists call “pet loss.”pet.” (Other groups use the term “non-human people. “)
“Psychologists should consider pet loss as an important area,” he said. paper said. He cites “human-animal attachment,” “the benefits of the companionship of a pet, and “the deep sense of grief one may feel in response to the death of a pet.” This mourning sometimes becomesdisenfranchised grief“, either because others do not recognize the depth of the resulting grief, or because the bereaved person does not feel entitled to such deep emotion.
These journals told me what I already knew, but still needed to hear: that it is completely natural to mourn someone who has lived alongside us for years. Too often we try to dictate our emotions, ordering them this way or that, as if we were a border guard of the heart. It is a mistake. In fact, it’s worse than a mistake. It is an apartheid of the mind.
The Sumerian proverb continues: “A hateful heart destroys houses. » The wars continue: wars of attrition, wars of famine, wars of extermination. I ask myself: who am I to feel sad when people all over the world are losing everyone they love, from infants to the elderly?
But grief cannot be quantified or compared. It’s like a neutrino. It has no mass, just energy. This is the black mirror image of the “Guide” in Stephen Mitchell’s translation of the Bhagavad Gita: “primordial poet, smaller than an atom, inconceivable, shining like the sun.”
Our Palestinian friends have been among the most compassionate about our loss, despite the scale of the current horror in Gaza. It makes sense, when you think about it. Grief should soften our hearts and help us recognize the personality and pain of others.
A confession: For years, I called myself a “dog person.” But these distinctions seem artificial now. Consciousness knows no taxonomy. It’s just.
Cats are still maligned in Western societies, which is probably a legacy of European superstitions. But they always had their defenders. The famously dissolute Charles Baudelaire wrote about them in his then scandalous Flowers of Evil, using language so sentimental it could embarrass a schoolchild. Pablo Neruda wrote several poems about them. One says:
cat
just wants to be a cat
and every cat is a cat
…of the night in his golden eyes.
He keeps on:
There is no unity
Like him,
he is only one thing
like the sun or topaz,
and the elastic line of its contours
is firm and subtle as
the line of the bow of a ship.
The image above is not a sketch of the cat that just died. It’s her sister, whom she took care of like a mother. This concern saved their lives in the shelter at the time of their euthanasia. The volunteer who brought them to us said she saw it and thought, “I can’t let this love die.” »
This was not the case until now.
Sleep, sleep night cat,
with episcopal ceremony
Take care of all our dreams…
Here’s the problem with grief, as I was reminded: you can’t think, read, or write your way out of it. You should treat him like a new roommate, living with him until the new arrangement becomes comfortable for both of you.
Buddhist Dharmavidya teacher and therapist David Brazier wrote a book on grief called “He Who Loves Dies Well.” This phrase could have been this cat’s epitaph. A loving heart builds houses. These are sturdy houses, with enough space for everyone who comes to seek shelter. Once there, they remain your companions forever.
This house seems lonelier, that’s for sure. But it was built to last and it will always be our home.
