home is where one starts from

in honor of my mr. fred

i stumbled through a dark kitchen last night looking for a cup, when i
was startled by the sound of deep breathing coming from corner of the
room. i remembered i had let my dog selah in earlier, and i felt instantly
warm aware of her presence in the room. she was dutifully scrunched
up asleep in the little space i'd made for her.
i really love my dog. she makes me laugh out loud. she makes me smile
out loud. i hung up the phone after a long conversation with my sister
jamie one day feeling like an old woman who talks to much about her pets. i'd
spent at least ten minutes of the conversation telling stories about
our dog and cats. i resolved to stop talking so about them as if they were
children, but here i am saying something again.
way before my brother-in-law ryan was related to me, he insulted me
greatly by telling me he saw me living like an old cat woman in my later
years--the kind who takes in every stray. so, he imagined me
living alone in a stinky house filled with cats? thinking back, i
believe he was just pointing out my natural affection for animals. we were
standing in the camp petting zoo i was running that summer.
i've always loved animals, and all animals. i've also always been
wretched about taking good care of them, and giving them enough
attention. the only animal aside from selah that i was completely
devoted to was a rabbit named mr fred.
i met mr fred when i was fifteen, the summer i was in charge of the petting
zoo. he was a plain gray rabbit, not at all fluffy or pretty or tempting to
hold. actually, he was a royal pain to try and hold because he fought
and scratched like a maniac. so no one held him.
it was probably because he was so unlikable that i decided to love
him dearly and find the beauty i couldn't see in him.
so i took mr fred out of his terrible little cage and let him loose in an
empty fenced in area. as soon as his feet landed on real ground, he went
wild with hops. he leaped such great leaps he did half-flips in the air. it
was pretty glorious to witness this rabbit-sized joy.
i became devoted to him, and began using his bigger cage as my place to get
away and have a moment alone each day. i'd sit on the ground to read,
and every once in a while stop to watch him jump. i loved watching him
and noticing things about him. i would have told you he was the most brilliant
rabbit that walked the earth. and though he didn't much liked to be touched,
with time he let me hold him. he would come to me and sniff me and then
plop down beside me to sleep. we were friends that gave one another space.
at the end of the summer i put him through a traumatic car ride from
north carolina to my home in florida because i couldn't stand the
thought of anyone else owning his little fluff of grayness. at home i
made him a cage which he quickly figured out how to escape. i
watched his technique for sneaking out and said he was such an
intelligent rabbit. i let him escape because he always returned himself.
but one tragic night he got out and startled our dog elsa, and that was the end
of mr fred. I acted like i didn't care when my dad keith told me the
news, but I cried all that day at school, and that afternoon, and the next day.
so selah is my new mr fred. i wouldn't say she's incredibly smart like he
was...she's more of a poet. i don't know why i love her so much,
except that i've chosen to believe she is the most profound and
beautiful dog that exists. and so she is.
one night last january i lay bundled up in blankets on the couch
reading with selah asleep on the floor beside me. i actually had the
book in my lap, and was stuck thinking and talking to God in a
frustrated, angry tone. it was at a time that i believed God was
insane. i told him that the world was nuts and he was even more nuts
for not only letting it continue, but for actually sustaining it. i
let him know that if i was him, i would have blown everything up a
long time ago and started over. i couldn't figure out why he put up
with the world and with me for so much time. i was feeling badly for
Him. and more badly for myself, because this place was feeling nothing
like home, and God felt even farther because he was so foreign and
weird to me at the time.
so i sat there with selah thinking these things, when i heard
her breathing, and i thought that i liked the sound of her breaths.
then four words started running through my head like a toy train going
in circles. it was actually quite annoying, but i like the words now: life
delights in life. that was all.
i liked selah at my feet simply because she was another living thing
in the room. she didn't do a thing for me, provide me with conversation,
give me anything... i loved her simply for her movement, her noisy barking through dreams, her loud hound dog snores.
a year before this couch thinking, i sat daydreaming on a train ride from boston
to my school on the north shore. i was trying very hard to come up with one
word to describe God. loving, holy, powerful... nothing i thought of was enough.
i finally stopped when i ran across the word "life".
i tried to imagine the world without life, and suddenly the train stopped, the people dropped to the ground, the grass withered up, and it was dark and still. God is life. i see his other attributes as natural by-products of his way of being powerfully alive.
it helped me the night i thought he was crazy, to think he could love me simply for my little breaths that sound kind of like his own breaths. he could love this great big,strange world just because it's pulsating with breath and life.
so no matter how small or silly or insignificant, i will look to delight in lives. and i'll be okay with myself if i end up being a crazy cat woman some day, telling stories about my all too many pets.