I lost a couple animal friends–family, really–this past year.  Grief is real because love is real.  Now I am preparing to invite new pets into my home, and I’m scared.  I found myself weeping in the car to recognize that I was getting hooked again with a soft creature and their tiny inquisitive yet fearful eyes.  The minute I met them I wanted to save them from a tiny glass box in a busy pet store and bring them cozy to my couch.

I wept because I know I will love.  And I know it will involve cleaning up after them, and worrying about them, and scolding them and and and loving them.  Love does hurt, I think because the body–made of earth–sobs when it is separated from the soil of another.  Material as I am, my child was pulled from my groin, there was screams and moans of pain.  Human as my life is, now that this child is thousands of miles away and is happily distracted with life, sometimes I moan, missing the closeness of her soul.

So I invite these little cat creatures to my home and heart, bowing to the afterglow of love: tears.