This is Eve. Richard Eskow writes to me from time to time, and I was sorry to hear about 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 somehow wrong to be devastated by the death of a (mere) pet, at a time when people all over the world are suffering cruel and unnecessary tragedies, starting with the Israeli genocide in Gaza.
Richard (RJ) Eskow is a journalist who has contributed to numerous major publications. His weekly show, “Zero Hour,” can be heard on cable TV, radio, Spotify and Podcast Media. Originally published at A common dream
There is an ancient Sumerian proverb that says, “A loving heart builds a house.” I have been thinking about this a lot since my cat, a member of my family, passed away last month. Anyone who thinks cats are apathetic and self-centered will be amazed at the depth of this cat’s compassion and love. She built a house.
I was a little reluctant to admit how much I grieved her death. What did I deserve to feel so sad over a tiny creature? Am I weak? Am I complacent? I wondered if that was the experience of losing a pet, or what some therapists call “a sad experience.”Animal companions(Other groups say “Non-humans“)
“Psychologists should consider pet loss as an important area of expertise,” says one psychologist. paper “The human-animal attachment,” “the benefits of companionship with a pet,” and “the deep grief experienced in response to the death of a pet” are cited. This grief can sometimes be “The pain of having one’s rights taken awayThey don’t feel “sad” because others don’t recognize the depth of their grief or because the grieving person doesn’t feel entitled to such deep feelings.
These papers were telling me things I already knew, but still needed to hear: It’s natural to mourn those who have been there for years. Too often we try to control our emotions, to dictate things like a border guard for our minds. That’s a mistake. In fact, it’s worse than a mistake. It’s mental isolation.
The Sumerian proverb continues: “A hatred heart destroys a house.” The wars continue; wars of attrition, wars of starvation, wars of extermination. I ask myself: Why do I grieve when people all over the world, from young children to the elderly, are losing loved ones?
But grief cannot be quantified or compared. It is like a neutrino: it has no mass, only energy. It is the dark mirror image of the “Guiding Spirit” in Stephen Mitchell’s translation of the Bhagavad Gita: “the primordial poet, smaller than an atom, unimaginable, and as brilliant as the sun.”
Despite the scale of the ongoing horror in Gaza, our Palestinian friends have been among the most sympathetic to our losses. And when you think about it, that makes sense: Grief should soften our hearts and help us recognize the personality and pain of others.
I have a confession to make: for years I called myself a “dog person,” but now the distinction feels artificial. Consciousness has no taxonomy. It just is.
Cats are still demonized in Western society, likely a legacy of European superstition, but they have always had their defenders: famous libertine Charles Baudelaire wrote about them in some of his scandalous novels. Flower of EvilThey use language so sentimental that even a grade-schooler would be embarrassed. Pablo Neruda wrote some poems about them, one of which goes like this:
Cat
I just want to be a cat
And every cat is a cat
…From the night to his golden eyes.
It continues as follows:
Lack of consistency
Like him,
He is the only one
Like the sun and topaz
And the elastic lines of his figure
Firmly and delicately
The bow line of a ship.
The image above is not a sketch of the cat that died. It is her sister cat, whom she cared for like a mother. Her compassion saved the lives of these two cats at the shelter when it came time for them to be euthanized. The volunteer who brought them to her said that when he saw them, he thought, “I can’t let this love die.”
This has not been the case until now.
Sleep, sleep night cat,
With the bishop’s rite
Protect all our dreams…
What I’ve been reminded of about grief is this: You can’t think or read or write your way out of it. You have to treat grief like a new roommate and live with it until the new environment becomes comfortable for both of you.
Buddhist teacher and therapist Dharmavidya David Blazer wrote a book on grief called “He who loves loves death,” which could have been this cat’s epitaph. A loving heart builds a home. A home sturdy and spacious enough to accommodate all those who come seeking shelter. Live there and they will be your companions forever.
This house certainly looks lonely, but it was built to last and will remain a home forever.
