I’m the first to admit that my heart has been firmly closed off to all other heartbeats for a number of years now. There was no way I wanted to even know that another heartbeat existed.
There was the terribly hurtful, disastrous relationship from a few years ago. Most of that I never breathed a word of my pain to anyone (although if you can handle cryptic you could check out here and here). That’s about as forthcoming as I chose to be, for a whole host of reasons. But what I can say is that I firmly zipped up my heart and determined never, ever to let it free again.
And then about a year before was a grief of another kind when my dear cat, Penny (see here) got her angel wings and left this earth. She was sick and suffering, and as hard as it was to let go, I had to let her free. Penny and I had been together for twelve years. We had got each other through thick and thin, and to go through her final days and then to grieve when she was gone took a very big toll. I wondered whether I would ever be able to bear that burden of love for an animal again, knowing that at sometime heartbreak would come again.
As time has gone on I have struggled to think of allowing myself to love another animal. I had decided, and have no doubt that I won’t be loving another human in that intimate way again, but I tossed and turned about a pet, and each time deciding that I just couldn’t go there.
There were good excuses too. Money, earthquakes (yes, really!), housing, money again, and of course the fear of loving and then losing again. I came to the conclusion at one point that I would like to get a dog instead of a cat, and so then there were all sorts of excuses why that wasn’t going to happen either. Money, earthquakes, housing, even more money, would my health limit my ability to exercise a dog adequately, and the age-old fear of loving and losing. It was looking like it was never going to happen.
Until about three weeks ago, when for some reason I didn’t really understand I drove out to the local SPCA Animal Rescue Centre just to look at the cats. I wasn’t at all prepared to adopt a cat that day; I was “just looking”. I saw two cats that I was instantly attracted too. One of them was adopted by others later that day. I was certain the other would go within days.
And then I got sick (a long story not for this post) and I just assumed that ‘Zion’ as he was called, would be happily adopted and settling into his new home. I told myself I would have adopted ‘Zion’ if I hadn’t got sick, but now I (and he) would never know each other beyond that afternoon together on the floor of the SPCA.
But strangely ‘Zion’ waited. I finally got back to the SPCA Centre two weeks later and I was sure he would have gone. He was a two-year-old, healthy and friendly male and I couldn’t see any reason why he wouldn’t have been snapped up. But as the SPCA staff explained animals often choose their owners and perhaps ‘Zion’ hoped/knew I would come back. Either that or my guardian angel had kept him out of public view for two weeks.
‘Zion’ and I have been cohabiting for one week now and I think we are both happy with our new arrangement. After a long discussion (admittedly a little one-sided) he has changed his name to ‘Hobbes’ (after my favourite cartoon character) and he is settling down nicely. He’s fast asleep at my feet as I write.
What felt good was to having some ‘thing‘ else in the house with a beating heart. Something else, alive with likes and dislikes, good and bad habits, and of course a unique personality. I hadn’t banked on any of that. I had forgotten the joys of pets and to find another heartbeat near mine is a good thing.
It’s odd because when I think of another heartbeat, what comes to mind is that beating sound and sight of the ultrasound of a pregnant woman’s belly. I have never been a maternal person. I never wanted to have children (for lots of very good reasons mostly documented somewhere across the years within this blog), and actually, the thought of another heartbeat within my body actually freaked me out a bit.
As it is, I’ve got another heartbeat, not inside me, and not a human one thankfully, yet one who still takes up half of the bed. I am growing quickly to love him. He doesn’t yet understand when I am in pain and so don’t appreciate that some of his endeavours to express his affection, and I guess that is much like a young child. I do believe though, that in time he will come to understand my needs of him as much as I understand his needs of me.
We are a partnership. If my theory that he waited those two weeks for me is correct, I hope he will soon come to the conclusion that I was worth the wait. That will be something I can only guess at.
Maybe my desire to keep my heart safe isn’t altogether that healthy. I don’t know, but it’s necessary to keep my mental health intact for now. It’s taken me just over five years to get another pet, and I hope that has allowed me the time to find within myself what I need to be able to give to Hobbes. He deserves the best of me, and I hope he gets it.
Before I forget, meet Hobbes:
“Our perfect companions never have fewer than four feet.”
Thanks for reading