Yertle, Sabre, and Other Animal Companions

Yesterday I bid farewell to Issac Yertle, an eastern long-necked turtle that I've had as an animal companion for around twelve years or so. If I recall correctly, I was the third owner of the turtle and have now passed it on to a family that already has two others, so I am pretty confident that he'll be cared for. Whilst vaguely interesting to watch, a turtle is not exactly an empathic creature and of course, one gains a great deal more from the mammalian species; with guinea pigs, rabbits, rats, and cats being les animals de compagnie in my abode in the past decade. In part the empathy we feel towards other species is associated with how close that species is to us, in evolutionary terms. The degree that a particular species has empathy itself comes from multiple vectors, but important discoveries suggest to be the presence of "mirror neurons", providing the ability to mentally construct the feelings that another person or being is feeling, as well as possibly providing for a range of other aspects of socialisation. It is, of course, early days yet in such research.

With the departure of Yertle, my only animal companion is Sabre the cat. Now she's quite a colourful character. She came into my life via Tojo who sadly died too young and when informed of his demise via 'phone my first response was "who's looking after his cat?"; it turned out that I was. Tojo adopted her as a street cat from the alleys of North Fitzroy and I can only guess what her life had been like up to that point; she's quite small, probably a runt, and probably had to fight for every scrap of food she could find, the poor dear. When she was brought in she did not react well to the fact that she had to share the domain with Mac the cat and would attack him on sight. Mac, being a creature of a much more gentle demeanor, would seek sanctuary despite the fact that Sabre was half his mass. "A tiny bundle of fur and fury", was how one visitor accurately named her and she received appropriate nick-names; "Miss Hiss", "Miss Grumpy-Breeches", "Miss Swipey-and-Bitey" etc.

Whilst it is true that her behaviour and impulse-control issues have improved over the years, the last several weeks have witnessed an incredible transformation. Now she's the only cat in the house and can travel through the domain without feline negotiation her personality is completely different (environment changes personality, who knew?). She's become thoroughly charming, a lot calmer, and downright smoochy. Every evening and morning she tries to get under the doona to curl up next to me or sleep on me, and if I'm already asleep licking my nose brings me to attention. Now I know a lot of this is pretty normal cat behaviour, but to see this in Sabre is thoroughly unexpected. Sure, she's not quite beyond giving a hiss of disapproval or a swipe (minus claws) if she gets herself underfoot, but it's a very far cry to what she has been like in the past.

Which troubles my thoughts somewhat when I think about my own future. It is probably to nobody's surprise that I don't intend to stay in Melbourne for the rest of my life, least of all after the recent tumultuous and painful life changes. I also have a personal motivation to apply what skills I have across the disciplines of project and quality management, systems engineering, and a concern for environmental health to do something significant and at a scale that will improve the lives of the many (c.f., The Wild Geese Flying project); that will indeed be my life's work. But on this personal level, I have an animal companion to care for, and I don't think she'll quite be up for overseas travel, let alone an international move. That is the thing, she is my responsibility now. Whilst others my have family to care for their felines when they relocate, I am not in the circumstance where I have that fairly common privilege, and I am unsure if any of my friends would wish to care for a cantankerous aged cat who demands to be in a single-cat household.