The Loneliness of Those Who Cannot Speak

He comes to her as he always does, when she is relaxed and contemplative. He bows his yellow head with its “m” between his brows, and he nuzzles her red head, enjoying the reciprocation from the larger beast whom most would assume to be his adversary. But he comes to her on a baking July evening, and this little moment is important because it is genuine, and because it is shared.

Animals do have emotions, and this moment of affection belongs to the barn cat and the old dog, and it is genuine. Animals do have rituals, and this one is theirs, and it is born of need, and need is born of the heart. Yes, I am one of those simpletons who believe animals have souls, one of those flakes whom the seminary graduates use as sermon illustrations. But I see in the nightly touch of heads with the half-closed eyes of two creatures….something.

The dog and the cat do not perform this rite for no reason, nor do they follow some embedded program. He approaches — and is allowed to approach — out of need, hers and his. Need makes us matter to each other, doesn’t it? And while the ritual pleases my spirit, it also acts as bellows to a troubled ember that sits within me: what of the lonely kittens with scared eyes who watch from abandoned doorways, the ditch-roving dogs in rural zip codes, the coyote who comes to the edge of the clearing and watches the old man filling bird feeders at sunset? What of these? Will their ache ever be eased, in some life, in some time? Are they paying off a debt they cannot recall incurring, or do their nervous little lives serve a purpose beyond the momentary glances we give them as we pass by?

We think of animals as solitary by choice, by someone’s design, by nature. But are they never lonely? Do they never watch the social doings of humans or of their own kind and find themselves taken by a wistfulness they can never discuss, can never analyze?

When you see the shy, watchful face at the edge of the shadows, look into its eyes. It may be that the small thing staring back at you would enjoy touching its head to another’s, just a momentary caress with an earth-bound creature who means no harm, who is content to sit with a companion in the still heat of a summer evening.

~ S.K. Orr