by Tom Shafer
February 7, 2022
I slipped into the hot tub last evening, literally, a couple of days after Winter finally displayed her full powers here in Ohio. Winter has largely been AWOL this year, sprinkling just a couple of inches of snow and dropping temperatures into the single digits only a handful of times. Sure, we’ve had more than our fair share of ugly, damp, gray days – not unlike the coastal climate of the Northwest – but ordinarily by now we would have experienced several snow events and a few frigid nights below zero. Perhaps this is a product of being a La Niña year and/or just another example of climate change, but either way, this golfer has appreciated the ability to play actual December, January, and February rounds in the great outdoors – and not virtually off a mat toward a TV projection in the basement of my local muni.
The storm ended up dumping six inches of snow here, on top of two inches of sleet and ice, making streets, sidewalks, and parking lots virtually impassable. Our area was effectively shut down for a couple of days, but now with clear weather and a warming sun and temperatures, things are pretty much back to normal – though it did take me several hours to clear our long driveway, sidewalks, and back porch area (for the outdoor cats and my nightly aquatic undertaking).
And though it was 22° on this night, with no wind it felt almost balmy. Again, as usual at 1 a.m., it was extraordinarily quiet and for the totality of the twenty-five minutes that I soaked in bubbling water, not one car or pickup broke the silence of my rural solitude. To the south about a tenth of a mile (perhaps above the Little Miami River), an eastern screech owl trilled and whinnied, a moment later followed by a mimicking call from another screech at some distance directly north. This conversation continued the entire time I was in the tub, with the northern owl progressively getting closer to the southern one. Though eastern screeches mate year round, it seems like they are particularly active here in February. Perhaps they are romantics at heart and enjoy the merriment and ardor of Valentine’s Day.
Above me, large, intermittent cumulous clouds were slowly traversing the sky, many of them creating images for those of us who look for such things. A full-bodied Abrahan Lincoln, arms outstretched as if participating in oratory, drifted across the Big Dipper, briefly obscuring the nighttime sky’s most prominent constellation. As Abe slowly made his way east, still delivering his stirring soliloquy, he was directly replaced either by Hamlet dramatically holding Yorick’s skull or by an angel with a sheep sock puppet on her arm – dealer’s choice!
As I settled in the warm water, I could hear Luna and Boots chomping on cat treats I had brought out for them. Unfortunately, Nakita was not there to join them, having passed away during the last week of January after a very short illness (FIV, the feline equivalent to human HIV). She had lived with us for about two years, and was a constant and willing companion on daily walks through our woods. She also loved her treats, and especially loved being petted and held, always purring quite loudly to display her love and appreciation.
Sadly, two weeks later, one of our indoor cats, Mookie, passed away from complications of kidney disease. Nakita’s death was truly a shock, displaying first symptoms on Martin Luther King Day, then being euthanized just three days later after her health drastically declined. At least we had some preparation for Mookie’s death because her illness had been diagnosed back in early December of last year. However, that didn’t ultimately make things any easier – after all, she had been a staple in our lives for over sixteen years. Mookie was singularly enigmatic (like most cats!) in that she lived to lie and sleep on any lap but hated to be picked up and held. She loved wet food unconditionally, and most mornings would start pawing and scratching our bedroom door at first light, desperately trying to wake us so that she could be fed. Of course, Mookie – and Nakita – loved us unconditionally as well, and it will take a while for our hearts to heal, or at least rehabilitate a little.
As I listened to the northern owl draw ever closer to the southern one, I couldn’t help but think about the power that animals, especially our pets, have over us. When I think about all of the trips I’ve taken to our national parks and monuments, what I remember most is watching the reactions of people seeing nature’s best offerings: grizzly bears and bighorn sheep in Glacier; wolves and bison in Yellowstone; elk and mountain goats in Rocky Mountain; prairie dogs and porcupine at Devils Tower; eagles and moose in Grand Teton; California condors and golden eagles at the Grand Canyon. Of course, the mountains and canyons and waterfalls and lakes are also there, but those sights don’t bring park roads to a standstill – not like the animals do. I certainly love the beauty of our national parks, but that’s never the main reason I am visiting. I am visiting because I love, and want to see, the animals.
And those visitations are oh so fleeting and temporary, but are nonetheless remarkably powerful.
So imagine the power of the animals that are part of our lives, the ones that are with us every day, that walk and play with us, that sleep and lie down with us, that wait for and eagerly greet us after we’ve been gone, that unflinchingly and unconditionally love us no matter what.
That power is undoubtedly most palpable when they are gone.
So, with exhaustion – and a little sadness – creeping in, I ultimately straddled out of the hot tub and spent a few extra moments with Boots and Luna, petting and stroking their loudly purring bodies in spite of the 20° temperature. And in the near distance, I could hear two trilling eastern screech owls getting ever closer to each other.
Though I didn’t stay out long enough to discover whether the owls met – and/or consummated their meeting – I like to think that they did on this night.
The power of animals. The circle of life.
