Prose: Pets and Places
Some things stick to you and find a way inside of who we are.
Hello all and sundry,
Well! Good to see ya! Let’s get a warm drink and find a comfy place on the couch. Grab a lap blanket, too! Today’s prose post is about pets and places. Oh, two precious P’s for me! I am sure you are having yours come to mind as well. Do share in the comments at the end! Let’s talk about pets and places.
Pets
An especially blessed life, I have had, when it comes to the presence of pets. From an early age, we always had a dog, for sure, sometimes a cat or two, and in visiting our grandparent’s ranch, the rest of the possible critter influencers surrounded us. There were horses to brush and on bare back, ride, cows to milk and calves to give tug on a held bottle, chicks and momma hens to watch scratch and peck, baby piglets to hold and quiet their squeal, and so many more….even mice! Now the mice were not Grandma approved, but I did take in a baby mouse or two—just to keep them warm! I was, any animal, obsessed. The more critters there were, the more content my heart.
I have always been one who adored the creatures with their miraculously created features that God so perfectly designed. How often, as a young child, I wished to be an animal and take on its personality and skills; to gallop with the wind, all hair caught up in air, to take dog leaps with splashes at the river’s edge, to stretch and purr as contented as a cat under sun’s rays, or to have the bounce and playful spirit of a new lamb in joy-filled play. Their lives were adventurous and fun, seeming to have little care of the nastiness of the world.
I wanted that.
I did the best that I could to live within the imagination of being a true part of their world. There was some concerning, maybe, craziness in my pursuit as I got caught a few times being TOO much a pup or brought back from the depths of my daydreams of having four hooves, mane and tail.
In kindergarten, I was sent home a handful of times for not only insisting I was a regal German Shepherd on all fours and panting with gusto as my tongue hung out as far as I could get it, not only that, but I would convince the entire class to do it!
Apparently, this wore my teacher thin. When Mom would come, I would be lying behind the floor-to-ceiling windowed school office, with arms crossed over like a dog resting its paws and with a dedicated constant pant puffing from my grin. I’d come up on hands and knees as she walked in while I was giving my behind a joyous wag in recognized excitement and glee, for her, but more for getting to go home. It was a stage. One too many weeks long, according to mom and finally, a deal was made to put a stop to it; we got our little dog, Tiffany.
Later, from 3rd to 5th grade (and less frequently after) my mind at times would disconnect from my life’s reality as I embodied the horse and raced the landscape around me. So intensely could I transport myself, that it was often difficult to bring me back to my own body and present space. This, often necessary, withdrawal from the current moment worked for most of the worst times. too, when being molested by our step-father. One day, I’ll share my writing about that. Not today. Today, I want you to feel the sensational wonder of pet connection.
It is no wonder we are a society that has come to cater to and idolize our pets to the extreme. No wonder we have the necessity for support animals, and the need for them to be socially accepted in all forms and in nearly all places. Animals are BIG medicine!
We now dress our pets, take them on trips and planes, set them up at pet spas, and allow them to sleep in our beds! As a child, maybe that deep desire for me to bond was intuition, premonition, of what was to come for us in loving our furry, feathered, and, sometimes scaly or other, friends! Which reminds me…
I also had some pretty in-tune fish! Yep, a large orange and white Nymph Goldfish going by Bubs (or Fat-a** as my ex named him, when he got HUGE at 2 1/2 pounds!). He would eat from my fingers and loved a belly rub. His tankmate was an all pink Kulhi Loach named Mr. Squiggles, who would come out in the day time (they prefer the dark), whenever he heard my voice. He would come up to kiss my fingertips, too. These two were a joy I never expected from water dwellers!
My heart was in rescuing animals, as well. Mostly the lost or unwanted kind. Dogs would magically follow me HOME! Two, in particular, that I SO didn’t want to return to their owners, a cloud white Samoyed and a richest red Irish Setter. I already had them named and our futures together planned. The Samoyed was Tammy and the Setter was Big Red. (I wrote my first book at eight years old, about Tammy. (I’ve reference her before in my About page. Here is a snippet:
I have been writing ever since I could hold a pencil…well, maybe since I could write words and form sentences! I remember making my first book when I was around 8. It was called For the Love of Tammy. (Just for context: the title was similar to a movie out at that time— For the Love of Benji). My book was a story about a stray dog I had found, fell in love with, and the heartbreak that came when the owner showed up and I had to return her. With complete dedication to the story, I even created illustrations! My entrepreneur spirit was also budding and I decided to see if my friends would buy the book for 10 cents each. I had 5 takers! So, I wrote five little books; no photocopiers back in the day! That was the beginning of a lifelong passion!
Here is a picture with me and Big Red, when I was still smiling because I was completely sure that his owner would NOT be found and I would have my next soul mated companion.
Big Red, he is a beauty, isn’t he?! Oh, my young heart just wanted ALL the animals; all the genuine and unconditional love that they could and would give. I could write a whole set of books about the blessed critters I’ve had accompany my life! I’ll keep those stories and poems for other posts, or future books. For now, this month, you’ll meet some of them in my poems: Whiskey, Chicago, Briggs, and Ben. Get ready!
Oh, and before I move on to the other P. Here is a link to a previous post that included another pet who graced my life. The poem was written by my mom. Anyway, if you haven’t already read this one, here it is:
On to the second P:
The other subject I intended for this post is one I also wanted to share with you: the other P, places. This month you’ll also be introduced to some of my favorites! Now, of course, there are not enough days in this month to acknowledge all of those spots on this planet that have touched my soul, but I’ll give you a look at three that first made impact during my younger days. Growing up in Montana did have its TREASURES and it is fitting that it is often known as The Treasure State.
Places
Where our feet may fall can often become a part of our very hearts. These places hold sights and smells and sounds and memories, that with just one sensory atom, take us on an internal trip of revival, or mournful remembrance. Remembering every inch of where I set my steps in Montana is a miraculous journey, even to those places with not so great memories. Mostly, though, these patches of ground, the living things atop it, or the structures built upon it, have left a mark for nostalgia. To tell you….
How is it that it can even be explained?
Is it the deep breaths IN of rich earth, cottonwood or Ponderosa pine, Bluebunch wheatgrass, or sweet sage? Might it be the sound or song of the prairie hen, sage grouse, pheasant, bald eagle, meadowlark, or the babbling of brooks, rivers and streams? Oh, or the chatter from a commune of prairie dogs? Likely, in part, its the shimmer the eye picks up as it glints off of a rainbow trout, the majesty of the pond grazing moose or on-hind-legs grizzly, the brilliant white of sunlit capped peaks atop the Rockies, or the flowing gold of wheat heads a dance with a whirling Chinook wind.
It is most surely the memories the mind hoards. Those deer trails traveled on horseback, the riverbanks walked with a good dog, the people past and present (much loved whether we have met or not, even the ghosts), the sunrises and sunsets on all four seasons, the history of past travelers setting foot just like me, or the sky so big it is its own type of galaxy with stars an arms reach, and Northern Light shows watched from front row seats. All of this. No, chests more are the treasures one discovers and so lovingly tucks away once visiting the Last Best Place. Chests and chests stored away when one wishes to remember.
There is something about the soul that is forever altered with even just one experience or visit. The three places I’ll be sharing poetry about this month are all historical; two are literal historical sites anyone can visit and the other can likely be visited as well, if you wanted to make the connection. Long designated historical are Bannack State Park and Big Hole National Battlefield, and the other is the family ranch once owned by our maternal grandparents (now by our aunt and family) and is located within the Missouri River Breaks of central Montana. Each place has deposited the very soul of itself within mine to be forever joined, in this life, and I am quite confident, in the hereafter. Heaven was never so close, the spirits of the past never so within reach.
Places, for some, are just places. For me, they are more than coordinates on a map, more than geography, more than who owns or is in charge of them, more than we humans will ever know, or understand. This Earth is the most outstanding of all the planets we know to exist, and its living will go on long after we, once again, become its soil. It will go on, I pray.
Destroy it, we just may, and the idea of this is a depth of grief unfathomable.
I often imagine the, “How could you?!” that hollers, wails, and groans from the bones of everyone who once walked in wonder, taking in all of the very same parts of it as they felt their feet fall, their hearts take hold, and their souls buried in the treasure.
Yes, it will go on, I pray. A place for future feet to find their spots to stand. Find their hearts transfused with atoms, present in the glory of revival, and packing their chests with the very treasure that all of us before were so fortunate enough to hold on to.
Well, we must more than hope!
Thank you all for joining me today. May your pets and places be in the forefront of your memory. If they are, do share a favorite pet or place you have kept in your chest. I would love to hear about them! Bring out those treasures!
Please don’t forget to join me for the poems to come, the 18th of the month prose piece, the Featured Writer, and an Extra-EXTRA! or two! As always, these pieces become MORE once YOU read them, and that makes my treasure chest all the more FULL! Love all y’all!✨🤗
Many blessings and MUCH LOVE,
~Wendy💜
May we all do what we can to keep our treasured spaces pristine. We owe it to all future generations. 💜🏔🌲🌳🌊🌎💙💚
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Remember to share something about your special places or pets! 💜
Such beautiful imagery and beautiful photos to boot!
You made me laugh and smile when I read about your kindergarten antics 🐶🐾.
My heart wanted to scoop you up after reading about Big Red ❤️🩹 what that photograph & statement conveyed.
Once again thank you for all the incredible pics & your writing ✍️ 🙏☺️💜