Saying goodbye to animal friends

This was prompted by the recent death of my 4-year-old cat Mischa. When we first got him, he was the tiniest kitten I've ever seen. We were afraid Pixie, the other much larger kitten we got at the same time as him, would kill him because of how rough she was when she played with him.

Fast-forward to around a year later, and Mischa was a globular house of a cat with a dangling belly that would not stop growing. He was about the size of two Pixies.

He was fat and grumpy and unenthusiastic about human contact, and I couldn't pick him up because he squealed like a little pig. His belly wobbled hilariously when he ran, and he snored louder than I do.

He was my little buddy, and I loved him.  

One of the few pictures I took specifically with him; it's an action shot cause he always RAN AWAY.

Let me start off by stating this: we are all animals. Regardless of what the entire breadth of human culture, art, religion and morality teaches us about ourselves, we are still animals.

While our brains have developed to accomplish and build things far beyond what the other living organisms on the planet are capable of, this does not make us any better than them.

Like everything else, our only scientific purpose is to ensure the survival of our species—despite what the aforementioned societal structures may say otherwise.

In a strict Darwinist sense then, why should we care about other creatures if they do not directly relate to our own survival?

There are hundreds of answers to that question, and each answer brings up even more queries. Where is the morality in owning pets? What about exotic animals? Should we even try to protect the habitats of certain animals? How much protection is enough? How can individual countries preserve the diversity of the earth while still remaining economically relevant? Is animal cruelty that big of a problem in the face of other pressing issues? What constitutes animal cruelty?

You know I love cats—if you didn't, what the hell are you doing here?

I love animals in general too, though. I wanted to be a biologist for a long time before any of this journalism candyassery.

My answer to the first question—of why we should care about animals—is influenced heavily then by my interest in all biological life and my many wonderful years spent hanging out with my family's cats as a child and as a young adult.

We should care about animals because not only are we in many ways no different from them, but because they can be our support structure just as easily as any human can be.

The cats who I've had as pets aren't just pets. They're my friends.

They're always their same goofy, carefree selves regardless of what pointless mood I'm in—they're animals, why should they change how they feel about me as long as I keep feeding them and treating them well?

No matter how much I've fucked up or made a complete fool of myself; no matter how much I may hate myself or some of the people around me at times; my pets are always there for me, even if they are finicky little furry bastards.

Hell, they're not just friends. My cats are my family. I worry about them when they get sick or hurt. I make sure they're taken care of. I weep when they pass.  They make me feel better when I'm sad and feel like I have nobody else in the world to turn to for fear of judgment.

If you think that's creepy, then stop and think for a minute. Most of us have friends and family who we confide in when we're sad. I do, and they're all wonderful.

However, everybody experiences lapses in which they don't want to talk about their problems. Be it an unwarranted desire to keep a secret or to let an emotion out which you don't like experiencing—we all have dark moments where advice, a kind smile and a hug will not make you feel any better.

A terror in the night that you can't explain. A bad break-up. The loss of a loved one. An irrational fear that won't go away. Being selfish and mean and bratty when others get what you want.

Soft fur or a happy, derpy animal demeanor can soothe all of these woes without a single audible word ever being spoken. It generally doesn't solve problems outright, but just being around an animal can be all it takes to put you into a loving, non-shitty state of mind.

The therapeutic effects of petting dogs and cats, and even being with animals in general, have been well documented.  As well, most pets—barring some really high-minded cats—are biologically incapable of judging us based on our personalities and mistakes alone (provided we are not abusive to them and take care of them).

Kitty love.

Combine these two ideas with the fact that our pets are always present at some place in our homes, and you get a great support structure. You feed them and love them, they keep acting cute and making you happy.

We do anthropomorphize the crap out of our animals, of course—making them seem sympathetic or capable of more complex thought and decisions—but there's literally no harm in that when they've already been domesticated and are being taken care of.

Note: that's provided you don't take it too far and become a furry or some gross shit like that. Stop reading my blog if you are, yah fox-tailed animal-rapist.

Going off of my earlier assertion that we are barely different from the animals we try to distance ourselves from, let me say that any religious or moralistic assumptions of us going to different places when we die is utter egotistical bullshit.

We're all made of the same stuff. We all live, we all die. No matter your view of the afterlife, there is no logical way of separating our deaths from the deaths of any of the life around us.

Realistically, we probably all just decompose until our bodies are gone. For all we know, though, our consciousnesses may head to an incredibly dull amoeboid afterlife when we die, doomed—along with the rest of the creatures in the world—to engulf smaller particles and slowly grow bigger for eternity as amoebas do.

In conclusion: dogs don't go to heaven? Bullshit. You don't go to heaven.

For now, though, I'm going to continue living life and missing my wonderfully fat cat and the other pets I've lost to the gross swirl of time and age.

Rest in peace, Mischa. You were a good friend even though you were taken from your family way too early. Maybe I'll see you in another time and another place.

Your fatass cat amoeba-form will most likely engulf me immediately.

"lolwut?"