WARNING: Late night morbid post. DO NOT read this unless you wish to be depressed. This is my Night Brain working. I hate that guy!
Reading about a man who ended up in a psychiatrists office several days after his brother in law committed suicide. The problem was not that this man was crippled with grief over his BIL's death, but that he had come face to face with his own mortality. That he had discovered, for the first time seemingly, that people die. That life is fragile. That one minute we're here and the next we're not.
This got me thinking.
As keepers of animals I think we see more death than the average citified citizen. We see it and in many cases we cause it. Most often deliberately through slaughter, sometimes through neglectful acts of stupidity. And death because the animals we keep have a shorter lifespan than we do and even those kept as pets are likely to die before we do.
Despite having put down several old and dear dogs over the years, the death of my almost two year old filly this spring shook me to the core. I have sat and stroked the neck of old dogs as the vet injected the killing shot. I was with two horses as they were destroyed by injection, one went quickly, one was ugly and horrible. But laying across the chest of my downed filly, feeling her gasp and feeling her heart beat, beat, flutter, stop..that hit me in the face so hard! THINGS DIE, and one day, so will I. One day so will everyone I love. Some have already.
It's something I try not to think about because to be honest, it flattens me with grief. I have not made my peace with my own death. BUT...and this gets to the heart of the matter, as an animal raiser I think I am way more in touch with the realities of life and death than many non-animal people are.
I think even if you are an apartment dwelling dog owner you are still not in touch with the reality of death like animal raisers are. You rush Froo Froo off to the vet if he rejects his kibble. And when it's Froo Froo's time to go you might drop him off in his doggy crate and not even stay with him! I think killing animals for food, or dealing with the bodies of large animals that have died, a task that is never delicate or pretty, which usually involves heavy equipment, just dumps a big load of reality in your lap.
It was a galvanizing moment when my horse died. Yes, I know we all die. We all know it. Yet we don't know it. If you know what I mean. I hope that my exposure to the harsh realities of the living and leaving of animals has helped develop a philosophy and peace with the inevitable. So far, not so much. But I still think I', better off than the person for whom death will come as a big shock, since they have never seen it up close and personal.
Are we keepers of the flock better off in this sense, or are we as in denial as the people in apartments who think milk comes from cartons and meat from Styrofoam trays?
Reading about a man who ended up in a psychiatrists office several days after his brother in law committed suicide. The problem was not that this man was crippled with grief over his BIL's death, but that he had come face to face with his own mortality. That he had discovered, for the first time seemingly, that people die. That life is fragile. That one minute we're here and the next we're not.
This got me thinking.
As keepers of animals I think we see more death than the average citified citizen. We see it and in many cases we cause it. Most often deliberately through slaughter, sometimes through neglectful acts of stupidity. And death because the animals we keep have a shorter lifespan than we do and even those kept as pets are likely to die before we do.
Despite having put down several old and dear dogs over the years, the death of my almost two year old filly this spring shook me to the core. I have sat and stroked the neck of old dogs as the vet injected the killing shot. I was with two horses as they were destroyed by injection, one went quickly, one was ugly and horrible. But laying across the chest of my downed filly, feeling her gasp and feeling her heart beat, beat, flutter, stop..that hit me in the face so hard! THINGS DIE, and one day, so will I. One day so will everyone I love. Some have already.
It's something I try not to think about because to be honest, it flattens me with grief. I have not made my peace with my own death. BUT...and this gets to the heart of the matter, as an animal raiser I think I am way more in touch with the realities of life and death than many non-animal people are.
I think even if you are an apartment dwelling dog owner you are still not in touch with the reality of death like animal raisers are. You rush Froo Froo off to the vet if he rejects his kibble. And when it's Froo Froo's time to go you might drop him off in his doggy crate and not even stay with him! I think killing animals for food, or dealing with the bodies of large animals that have died, a task that is never delicate or pretty, which usually involves heavy equipment, just dumps a big load of reality in your lap.
It was a galvanizing moment when my horse died. Yes, I know we all die. We all know it. Yet we don't know it. If you know what I mean. I hope that my exposure to the harsh realities of the living and leaving of animals has helped develop a philosophy and peace with the inevitable. So far, not so much. But I still think I', better off than the person for whom death will come as a big shock, since they have never seen it up close and personal.
Are we keepers of the flock better off in this sense, or are we as in denial as the people in apartments who think milk comes from cartons and meat from Styrofoam trays?
