Animals Are People

A chapter from Animals Are People by Peter Morville

Chapter 6

I’m jarred awake by a shriek. It’s so loud it hurts my ears, like nails on a chalkboard. It stops for a moment, then starts, then stops. The noises are coming from inside the house; the kitchen to be specific. An evil monster is making a breakfast smoothie. I roll over and try to sleep. But I can’t. I feel twitchy. I should get up and eat. But what’s the point? It all tastes like cardboard. I roll over again and scooch back against the wall. The green patch on my belly itches. So I start to lick. As I work the edges, I massage the fur to the back of my throat, and I swallow.

A door slams. I slump down. I’ve missed my chance to connect. Now I’m alone until evening. The doors and windows are closed. I’m cut off from natural scents and sounds. Not long ago, I was a barn cat. I lived on a farm with goats, chickens, cows, horses, humans, pigs, foxes, racoons, coyotes, rabbits, and my friends. Each day, we three cats would wait for the farmer to feed us; and then we’d play together. Or I’d hunt alone or sleep in the sun.

All of a sudden, I was in a cage. Terrified. Next, the cacophony of an animal shelter. Then, this prison of a house. The man ignores me. The woman is okay. The girl is too much. She tries to hug me and rub my belly. I can’t relax. But mostly, I’m alone. So I sleep. And I dream I’m back on the farm, hunting. I’m in a crouched position, head outstretched, eyes on the target, a statue in slow motion. My whiskers and nose tell me I’m downwind. The tiny goldfinch in the tall grass is unaware. I’m so close, I can hear her heartbeat. I’m perfectly still, ready to pounce.

A horn blares. I’m startled awake. Oh crap! I completely forgot about the vet. She’s here for Peppermint. I throw on pants, sweater, boots, and I’m out the door in a mad dash.

“Sorry. I overslept. Thanks for coming!”

Karen is amazing. She manages a standard vet clinic for cats and dogs and runs a side hustle as a large animal vet. So she makes farm visits. She’s an angel. I seriously don’t know what I’d do without her.

“Good morning, Jo! Not a problem. So what’s the story with Peppermint’s limp?”

As we enter the goat yard, I explain. “Two days ago, I went to the forest enclosure to move them to the yard for the evening. And I saw Peppermint standing in the mud in the rain. These three jerks wouldn’t let her into the shed. It was terrible! You know how much goats hate to be wet. So I dried her off with a towel and moved them to the yard. But next morning, she had a limp. It’s her front, right leg.”

Karen takes a look. Peppermint’s hoof is inflamed and infected. “Jo, it’s really good that you caught this early. Antibiotics and a pain reliever should do the trick. Unfortunately, the antibiotic stings.”

Karen is so fast, Peppermint doesn’t notice the first injection. But after the second one, Minty pitches a fit. She screams, runs, jumps, rolls on the ground. I’m horrified. But Karen just smiles and rolls her eyes. And she’s right. A few seconds later, Peppermint shrugs it off and starts munching on hay, happy as a clam, like nothing happened.

As Karen pulls out of our driveway, Mom pulls in.

“Hey, Jo, we need to talk,” says Mom, handing me a grocery bag. We head to the kitchen. I grab an everything bagel and red pepper hummus, while Mom organizes groceries.

“I’d like to propose a deal. Family dinner is important. Your dad and I hate that you won’t eat with us. So we’ve agreed to try vegetarian dinners. But the rest of the day, we’ll eat whatever we want. And Dad says there’s no admission of guilt, since farming, hunting, fishing, and eating meat aren’t morally wrong. But, Jo, we will compromise, if you will. So what do you think?”

“Dad’s wrong about morality. But yes, that sounds okay. It’s a deal.” I’m secretly relieved. I miss family dinners. And it’s a step in the right direction. I’ll take the win.

“Mom, it’s time for chores, or I’ll be late for class.” She gives me a hug, and I dance on out into the morning sun.

“Jo, thanks for agreeing to extend our class time again. This will be the final conversation on religion. And we’ve a fair bit of ground to cover. So, first thoughts on Islam?”

“It’s the second largest religion after Christianity. And they have much in common. Both are from the Old Testament. Both claim the only God. Both are patriarchal. I found this verse in the Quran: ‘Men are the protectors and maintainers of women, because Allah has given the one more than the other, and because they support them from their means. Therefore, the righteous women are devoutly obedient, and guard in absence what Allah would have them guard. As to those women on whose part ye fear disloyalty and ill-conduct, admonish them, refuse to share their beds, and beat them.’ So, Inari, I’m not tempted to become a Muslim, obviously!”

“Now look who’s cherry-picking! That’s one of the Quran’s most infamous verses. But, point taken. What else, Jo?”

“Well, the Quran is supposedly the literal word of God, and Islam means submission, so again, it’s not my jam. Most quotes I found about compassion for animals are misquotes. You search for the words in the source, and they don’t exist. It’s frustrating. All I could find is ‘the earth He laid out for all beings,’ and ‘He has only forbidden to you dead animals, blood, the flesh of swine, and that which has been dedicated to other than Allah.’ So, there’s not much on animals, and what is there is contradictory. Most of the quotes I found are actually from the Hadith.”

“Nice work, Jo. Tell me about the Hadith.”

“Most Muslims believe it’s a record of the thoughts and actions of Muhammad, written by narrators after his death. It says, ‘Whoever kills a sparrow or anything bigger than that without a just cause, Allah will hold him accountable on the Day of Judgment.’ But eating is a just cause, apparently, so Muhammad says, ‘When you slaughter, slaughter in a good way. So every one of you should sharpen his knife, and let the slaughtered animal die comfortably.’ Yeah, as if.”

“Despite their tensions, Islam and Judaism hold much in common. The intent to reduce suffering in slaughter is an example. Sadly, under Halal and Kosher rules, animals do experience fear and pain. And the rituals are often mangled by modern factory farms and slaughterhouses.”

“Lovely. So now that I’m feeling lower than a snake’s belly in a wagon rut, can we move on to Hinduism?”

“Sure, Jo. What did you learn?”

I know that Inari loves my lingo. They nearly always manage a stiff upper lip. But I can see the sparkles in their eyes. It’s a game of dry humor that we pretend not to play.

“Hinduism is the oldest known religion and the world’s third largest. In Hinduism, animals have a soul just like humans, and when sentient beings die, they are reincarnated as a human or as an animal.”

“The Jains argue their religion is older, as if age begets authenticity. But either way, both are ancient and animistic. In contrast to the Abrahamic religions, there’s less of a break with the animism of our gatherer-hunter ancestors. Now, Jo, tell me about Karma and Ahimsa.”

“Our intents and actions have consequences in this life and the next. That’s Karma. You’d better be good, or else. Ahimsa is the principle of not harming any living being in action, speech, or thought. The Rigveda says, ‘earth loves all her creatures,’ and the Yajurveda says, “May all beings regard me with the eye of a friend.’ So, Ahimsa is in both the revealed and remembered texts.”

“Excellent, Jo. How about the four varnas?”

“That’s the Hindu caste system. People are ranked by occupation and duty. Brahmins are scholars, priests, or teachers. Kshatriyas are rulers, administrators or warriors. Vaishyas are farmers or merchants. Shudras are artisans, laborers, or servants. And outside varna are the Dalits or untouchables. Inari, it’s odd that Hindus see all souls as equal, yet they embrace this godawful hierarchy.”

“Originally, Hindu scripture recognized different callings but held that all professions were equally necessary and of equal status. Later, elements of caste bias were inserted into the texts. Then the British reshaped caste as a tool of control. That’s a problem with religion. It’s hard to discern original intent. Another problem is noncompliance. For instance, most Hindus aren’t even vegetarian. Factory farms are booming in India. So much for Ahimsa!”

“Inari, that’s what’s so cool about the Jains. Of their five vows, Ahimsa or non-violence is first, and Satya or truthfulness is second. And they take their vows seriously. Over ninety percent of Jains are vegetarian. Monks won’t even take antibiotics. They walk the talk. All life is sacred.”

“Yes. Sacred, but not equal. Jains classify living beings by senses. Their scripture says plants have touch, worms have touch and taste, ants add smell, bees add sight, and most animals, including humans, have all five senses. Violence to higher-sensed beings is worse, but all life counts. Of course, Jo, we now know plants have more than five senses and humans more than thirty. Science is a thorn in the side of religion. Options are limited when scripture is wrong.”

“That’s why I prefer philosophy to religion. I agree with the Jains on animals. But they do the right thing for the wrong reason. Actually, that’s the problem. They don’t have a reason. It’s all because God says so. The idea I’ll be reborn as a worm due to bad karma is magical thinking.”

“Religion shapes culture. We use belief to control behavior. And the opposite is true. Culture gives birth to religion. We grasp beliefs that sanctify our behaviors. Of course, it’s not so easy to quash human nature, and we often lack the courage of our alleged convictions. Noncompliance is a red flag. People of all faiths commit all manner of sins. Where belief and behavior diverge, dishonesty is the crux. So I’m with you, Jo. Faith has value, yet I’m drawn to reason. Okay, let’s take a quick break, then we’ll dig into Buddhism, which has elements of both.”

I slip on sneakers and dart outside to visit the goats and chickens. It’s a warm, sunny day in Virginia. I love being able to wear shorts in November. Peppermint meets me at the gate. Her limp is gone, for now. I scatter cracked corn, and my hens gather round. The soft warbling of happy hens soothes my soul. Jumbo Chick waddles over to peck my laces. I bend to stroke her soft feathers, when I’m hit from behind. It’s Spike. This is the last straw! He’s a gorgeous, white silkie rooster. He used to be so calm. Now Spike mates incessantly. And this is the third time he’s attacked me. It’s time to move him to the bachelor colony. With no hens to protect, I expect Spike will be more chill.

I’m back just in time. “Hey Jo, before the break, I fear I wasn’t fair to religion. When I said dishonesty is the crux, I forgot discipline. When belief and behavior diverge, it’s often due to weakness. I can believe donuts are bad for me yet eat them anyway. I may know murder is wrong yet act in a fit of rage. Religion is a way to curb our instincts. Thou shalt not kill. Laws, ethics, and fables help too. But, Jo, culture can’t erase human nature. I act, therefore I am.”

“That reminds me of our goats. They are cute. And I do love them. But goats are assholes. They poop in their food. They head butt each other. They made Peppermint stand in the rain, when an infected hoof could kill her. But goats don’t care. They do whatever they want. It’s the same with our chickens. Roosters are rapists. Hens are bullies. The pecking order is brutal. Submission is required.”

“Jo, they don’t know better. But, to my point, it’s the aim of religions to lift us above these nasty, brutish behaviors.”

“But my point, Inari, is that animals help me to understand humans. My dad does what he wants. He’s like a goat. He hunts for fun. He’s an asshole. But I do love him. Inari, perhaps we expect too much of our fellow humans?”

“Good insight, Jo. We all struggle to balance nature with nurture. We all deserve compassion. That’s why I’m fond of Buddhism. The goal of a bodhisattva or a person on the path to enlightenment is to alleviate suffering for all sentient beings. Buddhism is a religion and philosophy centered on mindful compassion. What do you think?”

“No God. So that’s a plus. And even the saints are sinners. Buddha was a spoiled brat who grew up to be a deadbeat Dad. Like I said, I’ve been expecting too much of humans.”

Inari smiles. “Jo, your brutal honesty makes me giggle. And you’re not wrong. Buddha was born a prince and left his wife and son to seek enlightenment. What else?”

“The first noble truth is dukkha — life is suffering. Second, the cause of suffering is craving. We want what we don’t have, or we don’t want what we do have. Third, we stop our desire by evading attachment. Fourth, to escape suffering, we follow the path of meditation.”

“Yes. We get attached to the way things are. Yet everything is impermanent. So we suffer. It’s a brilliant insight. Personally, I love the teaching of Advaya, or ‘not two.’ It’s about the nonduality of subject and object, self and other. Everything is deeply intertwingled. All binaries are false.”

“Inari, I love how Pema Chödrön talks about the wisdom of no escape. She says that the first single-celled organisms survived by attraction and aversion. Even an amoeba seeks food and avoids danger. Pema tells us to walk a city block and notice our prejudices, to be curious about our attractions and aversions. Anyway, it struck me, our amoeba ancestors are the origin of binary thinking.”

“Brilliant, Jo! It explains why we’re drawn to the dualisms of yes/no and good/evil. Our brains and bodies were wired that way by evolution. Now, we’re short on time, and I want to close with a story from an ancient Daoist text.

Once upon a time, I, Zhuangzi, dreamt I was a butterfly, fluttering hither and thither, to all intents and purposes a butterfly. I was conscious only of my happiness as a butterfly, unaware that I was Zhuangzi. Soon I awakened, and there I lay, myself again. Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly, dreaming I am a man.

“It’s another case of philosophy abiding within religion. Reminds me of your dream. So, Jo, are you a girl or a wolf?”

“At the moment, I’m a cat named Bodhi.” That’s what I’ll call him, since his liberty is my duty as a bodhisattva. You can’t lock a barn cat in a house! Bodhi is suffering. He’s sad, bored, and lonely. I don’t know how to find or free him, but I swear to God, I will. I act, therefore I am.

Inari ends class, and I head on over to Fox Holler. Gage is leading a trail ride at Keswick Vineyards this afternoon. And it’s my job to get the horses ready. They absolutely hate it. The stress of travel and being ridden by strangers gives them gastric ulcers. All the horses are on myriad daily supplements and medications, including antacids. I care for them as best I can, but it’s a sad situation.

Still, the horses are beautiful. My favorite is Nora, a chestnut mare and fiery redhead badass. Nora has thrown a few clients and broke the last stablehand’s arm with a single kick. I’m sure he deserved it. If you treat her with love and respect, she’ll do the same for you. Gage says he wants to sell her. But I can tell he admires her rebel spirit. I only wish I could set her free.

“Hey, Jo, ready to roll?” Gage is all smiles in his spiffy cowboy outfit. The man sure does love his trail rides!

“Yep, just about. You can pull the trailer around.”

“Will do. But first, Jo, I have big news. Remember that nasty old geezer, you know, the one whose dog you stole?”

“Of course I do, Gage! What about him?” Suddenly I feel sick to my stomach. I’m not sure I want to know.

“Bastard up and went to Hell — dead as a doornail. Mary found him. Boots on the porch. Face in the dirt. Crawlin’ with bugs. A stroke maybe. Or he fell. Either way, been lyin’ there a few days. Guess he don’t want his wolf back.”

A wave of relief washes over my body. I had no idea I’d been so anxious until the worry was gone. I give Gage a big bear hug. I’m so happy. Now I can bring Ghost home!

Gage laughs. “Wow! That was fun, Jo. I ain’t never seen a Southern Belle get so gosh darn delighted by death.”

I smile and shrug.“Well, Gage, you know what they say — karma’s a bitch.”

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25

A chapter from Animals Are People by Peter Morville