It’s chaos. I walk into this house and all I see are the things that are out of place. The cluttered counter top and the numerous items lying on the floor. The pet beds, toys and packets of dog treats scattered everywhere. The books that need to be straightened and the dishes that need to be put away. The doorway is obstructed by delivery boxes. Cushions are out of place and groceries line the sink area.
My eyes scan the nooks and crannies that otherwise would be missed by any other visitor. I do wonder why I am the one that notices the lopsided picture on the wall. More than that, I wonder about my ability to refrain from straightening it.
Yes, I’ve been told, I’m one of them. The orderly, organised, obsessed individual. The one who has everything in its place. I keep coming here, even though the anxiety overpowers me. I keep coming here even though I feel unwell from the airborne allergens that attack me. I keep coming back because for sometime, I’m able to look beyond the chaotic home that is in disarray. The reason being, the three loving dogs that live here and their ability to make me feel
Loved. They pounce on me each time I walk through those doors. The non stop wagging tails and the barks of excitement and love that fill my aura at that time have no words. They fight for my attention and it is then, I see nothing else out of place.
The owner, a middle aged, big hearted, gothic inspired, cat lady houses three beautiful dogs and about 30 some stray cats. Her front and back porch welcome kittens. Her garden grows fruit, and an abundance of herbs and plants that attract exotic butterflies. When you finally make it to her front door after battling with overgrown native plants, it’s full of cobwebs and spiders. She refuses to kill them because they’re thriving and for some insane reason I’m ok with it being Halloween here all year round.
I’m an animal lover too, I can see past the need to be orderly. How can you be? It’s impossible to house so many living things and then have everything in its place. I watch how she tends to the kittens, plays with a dog, drops her chores to run to the vet, watches her clock for dosing prescribed medicines. She allows the birth of kittens in her bedroom and she never misses feeding time.
I couldn’t play her role for even one day. She does it with ease and takes great pride in her ability to shelter animals. She’ll buy nice expensive things only to see one of her animals chewed it up or knocks it off its perch. She shrugs her shoulders and moves on. She reminds me of a mum with many children used to mishaps and surprises. It takes a special kind of mum, to be able to manage so many voiceless creatures, know them all by name. Clean up after them and feed the entire colony. The ones who never grow up and leave. The ones who are always dependent on you day and night, year after year.
She barely shows her agitation and without any help she coordinates her day like an orchestrated play. The animals too, play along to her tune, as if they know she is the one who will write their destiny.
We sit on the porch and sip some wine, we chat and I entertain her with some much needed human interaction, because once in a while, I too feel responsible to check in on her. I watch the kittens climb up and settle on her lap, with a glass in one hand she throws the ball with the other as she plays with her eldest dog, Artemis. She’s special, she rescued her first. Through it all she laughs away.
We could all learn something from this house, from this animal lover and from all the thriving ones who live here in harmony. We could all learn how precious life really is.
