The Gift of Cats and Dogs on the Frontline of Covid: A Love Story

      Even further, in the medical world, they are uncovering more and more all the potential and also very real mental and physical benefits in pet therapy, otherwise known as animal-assisted therapy, from cats and dogs, to horses and pigs, and who knows, perhaps even in the companionship of your pet lizard, George! From simply helping to create a reason to get up and outdoors to walk the dog as some semblance of routine for those afflicted by depression, to the benefits of purring from comforting to actually physically healing… The subtle joys they bring to our human selves are plentiful, with so much yet to discover and explore. This is certainly Whiskas for thought.

When I consider my own journey with my animals as a freelance writer from home for many years now, and also with a history with depression, I sometimes wonder if it is I who saved my kitties or them me. My Zafira has come such a long way since she was first discovered, discarded in a box on the side of the road, with all her kittens. Barely any fur left on her and stringy as a bean, focussing all her nourishment and love on her boxful of a litter. Fostering them, in turn, has been the best thing I could ever have done for myself. While homes were found for all her kittens, barring the little ginger boy, a mommy’s boy if ever there was, who I simply could not bring myself to separate from her. Oliver, or Olly, the ginger is still so very much a big, big baby, demanding cuddles from either of his two mommy’s (Zafira or me) any chance he can get! As for Zafira, she has blossomed into a fine cat, with an illustrious coat and no longer skittish like she was for so many months, now being able to accept cuddles in a most dignified, demure way it must be said, from any and all who she learns to trust. But ultimately, in all earnestness, I think it is ultimately very much them who saved me. Especially in the most stringent regulations of lockdown, on our wintery shores, for all I thought I’d be better prepared as someone who has worked in loosely enforced self-isolation for so long.

Of course, it was not without its challenges. They did not take too kindly, once used to my perpetual presence at home, for instance, when I worked into the wee hours of the evening, following me to the bathroom and nudging at the edges of my laptop, sitting on the books laid open for research purposes. “We need more cuddles! It’s just not enough!!” they seemed to implore on these occasional evenings, sometimes making it all but impossible NOT to cuddle them instead of work.

Then there were the evenings of binge-watching Showmax on the sofa under the covers, where they insisted on sitting on the arm of the sofa that was mine, blocking me from reaching my mug of hot cocoa or glass of red wine on a cold winter’s eve. Initially I used a pouf to block their advances to jump on the arm of the sofa. While Zafira relinquished, the battle between my ginger and me continued. Perched in stalemate on the other side of the pouf on the floor, he’d eye me, with a spring in his stance, threatening, eyes slit so menacingly he’d have given Clint Eastwood in his prime a run for his money, tumble weeds tumblin’ on by. Eventually, sick and tired of the whole thing, feeling every day like I was stuck in some hellish overbooked economy class between two overbearing arseholes, I gave up, and moved to the other side of the sofa. Though I’m admittedly a creature of habit (bordering on OCD), some fights are just not worth fighting.

Jokes aside, I think back on my waitressing days, in college, when we used to serve a fine wine indeed, a red cultivar. The bottle had a dog on the label. And Faithful Hound was its name. A gem from the estate of many delicious wines, Mulderbosch. The story on the back of the wine, told the tale of a very faithful hound indeed, who waited patiently on the homestead, a cottage, for his master to return, and who died there, for his master never did. For myself and a friend, both avid animal lovers that we were, this story brought a tear to our eyes. For truly there can be no purer a love, and never will be, than that man’s best friend feels, whether he or she take the form of cat or dog or goat.

So today, let’s raise our glasses to all the faithful animals who have kept so many fears and anxieties and stresses from our doors and from inside our guarded homes and fearful hearts amidst all the confusion and panic. Thank you, thank you each and every one and all, for loving us, serving us, like you do. I will not for one, single day feel foolish when I play at karaoke, just me and my cats, and I sing this song to them, a song I feel so genuinely, my tribute to them with Teenage Fanclub’s lyrics:

I don’t want control of you
Doesn’t matter to me
The very heart and soul of you
Are places I wanna see

Everyday I look in a different face
Feelings getting stronger with every embrace

My feelings really do get stronger and stronger with every embrace. And I don’t know what I would have done without my Olly, and mommy, Zafira. Thank you for things, so simple it would have seemed, but things that have proven, were we without, life would have been less worth living. Touch. Love. And affection.

Salut!