Once again I have absolutely no idea what to write. I know there are things I would like to write, but I'm not writing them on here.
So, once again, I'm going to dip into my writing prompt cards, sourced from Catherine Deveny.
Tonight's card reads:
"All animals are therapy animals, most are just freelancing.
Write about the healing power of an animal. Think pets in particular but not exclusively. Open your mind to birds, livestock, wild animals, rodents, and insects."
I love most animals - okay, I'm not fond of chooks, but furry animals - I adore.
I could bore you senseless talking about Lucifer, my gorgeous black boy, or Maow Maow, the love of my life. Growing up, there was Sheba, who was the family dog, but she slept on my bed, and I was her favourite. She was my best friend growing up.
Animals tend to love me too. Visiting an old colleague the other week, his two very large German Short Haired Pointers thought I made a great couch - and I loved them for it.
You'll always find me in the kitchen at parties talking to the cat, or dog. We have great conversations.
Yet my favourite interactions with animals are the ones you don't expect. The ones where you can commune with the animals and you can take each other in.
Here's three examples.
My mum used to live in the country and there were some kangaroos that lived in the scrub out the back. On any given morning, you could go outside and there'd often be a kangaroo, often with a joey, sitting on the front lawn. If you moved slowly, and sat down, you could have a chat. She wasn't going anywhere, comfortable in your presence. We looked each other in the eye, gave each other the nod, and got on with our business - I drank my coffee. She kept nibbling on the grass. After a while, she made her way slowly back into the scrub.
Magic.
My second example was when my stepdad and I went up the back paddock, which entailed a long walk up a big hill. On arriving, we found about twenty kangaroos sitting around chewing the fat. If you're quiet, mobs of kangaroos will just sit there for a bit. They're more scared of you than you are of them. Seeing the two of us, they got up to move away - but that wasn't the joy of this day (although kangaroos always make it good day). We came within a few metres of a Wedge-Tailed Eagle.
Normally, you won't get anywhere near these birds in the wild. They're very shy. This one was obviously hanging out with the roos. It flew away quickly, but not before unfurling it's massive wingspan in front of us.
Nature got a big thank you that day. It's rare to witness that incredible beauty up close.
My last memorable interaction that I think of fondly was in England. I was staying with a friend in deepest, darkest Surrey. Her house is around three kilometres from the station - a good half hour walk home through that classic English woodland.
Around the halfway mark, sitting by the side of the road, was the most glorious fox. I love foxes. I stopped and stared. He stared back. Neither of us moved for a minute or two. He nodded at me. I nodded at him. It was an unexpected acknowledgement. Then he crossed the road and went into some bushes.
I know this is a silly little story about encountering a fox on a lovely English Autumn afternoon on a picturesque English country road, but it was a fox. In the wild. We were minding our own business. But we connected in a small way.
Any time you can commune with an animal, whether it's a dog you pass in the street, or the neighbours cat who demands a tummy rub before you pass, or watching (and smelling) Salvatore the seal, who sometimes frequents the Yarra River, animals will always be the bomb.
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