Grandkids Are Great. Animals Are Awesome.

When I was a child we always had a family dog. The first one I remember was when I lived with my gramma. He was named Boxer. He was old, always dusty, and walked on three legs with the fourth bent permanently up against his ribs after having been hit by a car. When my mother remarried after divorcing my father, my sister and I moved in to live with her and our stepfather, and a succession of dachunds began, but later as a mother myself, our dogs were of various breeds and were joined by cats, hamsters, parakeets, and so on. I've always loved animals of all species, shapes, colors and sizes.

At some point in my forties, and for some reason I still can't identify, I became fixated on seals. Maybe because the seashore is a favorite retreat of mine. But I began to collect pictures of seals, ceramic, stuffed, sandstone, and so on -- seals. This placated me somewhat, but -- I wanted to touch a real seal! And sure enough, on a trip to Sea World, trainers brought a seal out of the water to sit on a platform and I was chosen from the crowd of volunteers to come forward and pet him. I'll always remember that magical moment. His name was Peabody. Touching him, touched me. Some silly (?) need inside me was met that day.

Later it became all about wolves. I had photos of wolves, paintings of wolves, posters of wolves, statues of wolves, and of course soft, stuffed wolves. But I wanted a relationship with a real wolf! I heard of a wolf rescue program in the foothills, and my son drove me to pick out a hybrid to bring home. I chose the runt of the pack, a female I named Albertine. My son brought a male home and named him Mano; but it wasn't long before Mano outgrew my son's back yard, so came to live with his sister. The two of them decimated our huge yard, and proved what we had heard -- that wolves are different from dogs. They were sweet and I loved them, but they lived in their own world. After a year we found a home for them with old friends of ours, where they could be together on a large ocean side ranch south of Ensenada, Mexico. I cried when they left. Mano jumped in the van, tail wagging, and wanted to drive! But Albertine hid behind me and I had to pick her up and put her in. She had been neutered, but we later learned that Mano fathered many pups. I still think of them often, and remember how they loved our back yard, playing in and drinking from our waterfall.

Eagles came next, and the longstanding theme of my bathroom is... eagles. Beautiful wood, glass, ceramic and brass eagles fill the shelves of my greenhouse window. No, I've never owned a real eagle, but here's a cute thing that happened. About a year ago we rescued a pet cockatiel that either got loose or was set free. We bought a cage, taught him to say his new name, and my little granddaughters loved talking to him. Annabella, five at the time, went to school one day and told her teacher excitedly, "My gramma owns an EAGLE!"

Of course there is a special place in my heart for horses, and I can't tell you when that began. I had horses many years ago and have had one more recently for seven years now. Although I don't think of her as "mine." I think of myself as "Brandi's person." When she is gone I'll never have another. I feel toward her the way I feel toward my husband. No one will ever take their place. The memory of them will have to carry me through to the end of my days, if I'm ever to be left without them.

After a knee injury in Alaska, I tried yesterday for the first time to ride. I was able to get into the saddle, but when I tried to place my right foot in the stirrup my knee was having none of it. The "ride" lasted all of 30 seconds, and I was so disappointed. But looking back, what comforts me is reliving the exchange of energy that took place between Brandi and me. There's always something in her eyes that sends a heartfelt message, and yesterday she was particularly patient with me and gave me "love nudges" to boot. I think she was as disappointed as I was, that we didn't get to play.

Aside from the sprained knee, my husband and I have been caught up in a family crisis that has affected us deeply. We're helping each other through it, and our dog (Artax) and cat (Mismatch) have been even more tender and attentive than usual. They seem to sense our sorrow, our sense of injustice and helplessness. As is usually the case with animals, they ask no questions and make no judgments, they simply accept us and do what they can to provide solace. They offer unflinching loyalty that is much needed and much lacking, at this stage of our life. Yeah. As we age, things change. Including the way others think and feel about us, and behave toward us. As my clever little Annabella once said when she was four and broke a crayon, "It's just part of life Gramma." Grandchildren are great. They're irreplacable.

Animals are awesome. They're irreplacable, too.

Once precious grandchildren and special animals have touched your life, even in their absence you can never feel alone. You just have to dig deep enough inside yourself, to where their love lives.