I found myself in a predicament. I’d volunteered to clean the washroom before accepting the lift home I’d been offered. I threw a pail of dirty water down the toilet; flushed it and proceeded into the strange building. Eventually I found my way into the parking areas. The people who’d offered me the ride home had vanished.

Perturbed at this I walked around the back to another empty parking lot. Nothing! Not a soul or a vehicle in sight. The building I returned to was empty so I turned heel and proceeded down the nearest street. The only living thing I spied was a grey cat. Read more

Tamar Geller, founder of The Loved Dog, is a renowned life coach for dogs and the people who love them. She prefers the term “life coach” to “dog trainer” and “well-mannered” to “obedient.” You can read her “30 Days To A Well Mannered Dog.” Tamar rejects both the notion that a dog needs to be submissive as well as the usage of painful prong collars and choke chains that have been common tools of dog trainers for decades. Her bestselling book, “The Loved Dog: The Playful Non-Aggressive Way to Teach Your Dog Good Behavior” and her DVD, “Celebrate Your Dog! The Loved Dog Way of Training”, walk dog owners through her innovative and revolutionary approach to dog coaching (training) — one that is light-years ahead of the typical dog training. Read more

My brother is besotted. Molly is his everything: the love of his life, the girl of his dreams, the one he’s waited for forever. When I phoned my dad on Father’s Day, my mother asked if I could call back, as they had company. When I did, Dad said, “Your brother was just here with his wife…” My mind reeled: when and whom did he marry? Dad continued, “That’s how it seems, anyway. He cuddles her and kisses her, she licks him, and it’s just like they’re married.” 

Molly is a Boston Terrier. Read more

Shiri and “fuzzy soul-mate” ‘Pfizer’ (because she is a natural anti-depressant).

In truth, we don’t own anything or anyone. We are not “pet owners,” we simply rent time with those we love (be they in a human or animal form). Working and speaking with hundreds of animal lovers over the past decade, I have come to humbly appreciate how precious is the love we share with our companion animals. Those who have not experienced – or have not allowed themselves to experience – this kind of an open heart kinship, simply do not really understand that this is a relationship like all others in our lives.

Yet sometimes we come across a particular companion animal that penetrates so deep into our heart, we can’t even explain the depth of the connection… It feels familiar as if we’ve known each other our whole life time! Read more

Several years ago, my older sister became extremely ill, subsequently passing away.   She suffered all of her life from complications due to Type 1 Diabetes, which then ended her life after a long struggle with this illness. We were so close; the pain of her passing seemed unbearable and I was overwhelmed with sadness and depression after her passing.  Working fulltime and married with two young children, I knew I had to get help with my depression.  I recognized how unfair it was to my family to allow myself to be consumed by this negative emotion; I was not myself at work either.

Then one day, when I was at my doctor’s appointment, I must have appeared desperate.  He asked if I would consider meditation to help me. Read more

Intellectually, I’ve always known where the hamburger sitting on my plate came from. Intellectually. I mean, nobody has ever plucked a side of beef off a bush, we all know that. But denial has such a way of sugar coating everything, of allowing us to stay the course, even when that course is not good for us. Things wrapped up neatly in packages did not compute as having once belonged to a living, breathing creature. I was able to distance myself from the whole nasty affair.

That came to an end 23 years ago, when I was writing for my local newspaper, and doing a story on a woman who rescued Dobermans. Read more

You know that song, “This Little Light of Mine”? That’s my “theme song”. I’m Chris and I’d like to share my light with you.

My childhood was horrendous. My father was an animal lover but as far as humans, he was a tyrant. He was a raging alcoholic, extreme racist and just plain rotten to society. He was afraid of no one and always ready for a fight. He would do so much for animals but abused and neglected his family. I’m not here to judge him or dwell on his behavior, I am sure he has his demons and I’m sad about that but I’m just trying to paint the picture. He was violent and unpredictable and I would hide in the closet, usually with one of our dogs. He would never hurt an animal so I was usually safe with one of them. My love for animals blossomed from this life I was stuck in. Read more

Eyes the color of Irish moss locked onto me and wouldn’t let me go. Willed me into returning the gaze. Made me fall in love on the spot. The rescue kitty, a silver tabby, had chosen me, and I’m so glad he did. He has been my teacher, as well as my friend.

He was so weensy, that at six weeks old he could snuggle up quite nicely in the palm of my hand. Not much time for snuggling, though. He had a cat’s boundless curiosity, which took him on endless excursions throughout the house, exploring this and that, taking such delight in absolutely everything. I would watch him wrestle with a paper bag, every inch of him thrown into the fray, nothing else in the world mattering, and I would think, “This is how life is supposed to be. This good, and this simple.” Read more

Do you find yourself too often shaking your fist at God and asking, “When, oh when? . . . When will I finally get published or called back? . . . When will I be able to quit my day job? . . . When will I have enough money to write or paint or design or dance full-time? . . . When will I meet someone who will support me in the creating I must do?” The answer to all such questions may seem illogical at best and outrageous and barely palatable at worst. But it’s simple.

The Squirming Truth

The truth is this: Each of us, no matter how dire or sad or frustrating our circumstances, is where we want to be. No, I’ll be more accurate: each of us is where we need to be.

We are where we are because we need to learn certain things. And we can’t get to the next place without learning them. This principle applies to everything in life, including your chosen mode of creativity. Read more

The phone call came in the middle of Thanksgiving dinner. We were at my in-laws,’ and my face flushed with embarrassment when they handed the receiver to me.

“Willy’s been hurt. Not exactly a collision, but some sort of brush with a car. He wanted to be put in the crib, so that’s where he is right now.” Read more

In February of 2006, while teaching my 10^th grade computer science class, a call on my cell phone interrupted us. The school had a strict policy that all cell phones must be off in class, but for some reason I simply forgot to turn mine off on that specific day. Amid the jeers and Ooooooh’s erupting from the students, I decided to defy the powers that be, take the call and explain later. Little did I know that this single call would be a turning point in my life. Not only would it change it forever, but would plunge me into what would seem like a never-ending roller coaster ride. Read more

It’s early October, 2009 and my home is a little too quiet these days as I don’t  hear four extra paws clicking on the worn cedar floors in my kitchen.  I miss those clicking sounds which came from my wonderful dog Ranger.  Ranger is part German Sheppard and Rottweiler and he’s passing away as I whisper into his ear telling him “It’s ok Ranger, its all ok.  I’m right here.  Mama’s right here so don’t be scared.”  He passes in our front porch at 0140 August 28 with my arms embracing him.  I decide to sleep with my dog this evening, not wanting to leave his side.  I call my mom and she lends her comforting ear to my heartfelt words that are spoken through a lump in my throat while I sob and sob.  Her voice on the other end soothes me for the next three hours. Read more

When I was a high school freshman I was tender and malformed.

I ached for acceptance and validation. I had received the message, as many of us had, in our formative years that we must always be in the business of doing more and doing it better. Behaviors were moralized and the nebulous “good enough” always seemed right outside my grasp, just beyond the next honor roll or cheerleading squad slot. Read more

 “Leda, do you want to drown?” Mom yelled.  “Come here, now!”

I was terrified whenever the water rose above my waist, her screams warning us to stay near the water’s edge.   It happened every time we went to Lynnhaven Beach in Virginia.

Mom, herself, had never learned to swim, although she grew up in a small town near the Atlantic Ocean in Puerto Rico.  Born in 1923, she experienced natural tragedies, like the hurricane in which the family lost all their possessions.   Decades afterwards, apprehension of the ocean passed on to her offspring. Read more

Lawrence Anthony, a legend in South Africa and author of 3 books including the bestseller The Elephant Whisperer, bravely rescued wildlife and rehabilitated elephants all over the globe from human atrocities, including the courageous rescue of Baghdad Zoo animals during US invasion in 2003. Read more

I don’t know if Mom instinctively chose a puppy that was like her, or if the puppy chose her for the same reasons, or if it was all a coincidence.  What I do know is that the tiny mixed breed puppy Mom named “Simba” looked much like a lion cub with reddish-gold fur and a black face and had pride and personality to match.  She was a formidable lady, benevolent but alpha, exactly like my rock of a mother. My family had moved from a Massachusetts suburb to the wild Vermont countryside, settling on a long defunct farm complete with old wooden wagons and spiked metal tines hidden in tall field grasses, a decaying barn full of mysteries, and woods full of once lively logging trails.  There were endless opportunities to run and explore. I stayed outside for hours on end, my mother knowing I was in good hands with Simba. Read more

 Hundreds of Berliners moved passed me, a tourist, in cars, on foot, by bike — moving along as if there was nothing strange about a hollowed out, wrecked stone building towering in the midst of more modern structures. It was a church 1000 years old and still standing after storms and bombings; the German people left the wreckage as a reminder of war’s horrors and how amazing it was to survive.

My Berliner-born Aunt lead the way and spoke of history and struggle, shared family stories and bits of trivia; she twittered beside me as my feet brushed over cobbled side streets. I didn’t hear her at one point, though, when I saw a cannon, the iron silent and cold now, a killing machine now a work of art. Astride the formidable reminder of human hatred was a starling. Her plumage was still speckled from winter, and she raised her head to the sky and sang strains I’d come to love. Read more

I was living in an old log house in the wilderness with my two black and white kittens named Tai and Chi.  They were sisters rescued from a family of feral cats at a farm near the city and were used to playing outside day and night.  After keeping them inside for a week in order for them to get accustomed to their new surroundings, I decided it was time to let them out.  They had been whining by the front door for several days now.  When I opened the door, they literally darted out, filled with glee.  Read more

I’ve always been a writer, ever since I was a little girl and used to write stories and staple the pages together to make my very own book.  I loved reading and everything that went with being a budding author, but quite strangely it took me until the age of 20 to realise that this is what I wanted to be.  Until then I thought I wanted to be an actress, and it wasn’t until I realised that I loved writing the application letters far more than I liked the auditions, that I realised that perhaps my future lay in writing, not the performing arts. Read more