Autism, Love & Loss of Pets
I knew I was in for a tear jerker when I opened up the latest issue of Psychology Today and found an excerpt from the new book 'Cowboy and Wills' An autistic boy's greatest love-and loss by Monica Holloway.Pets have been a constant part of my life with Maizie. Not every pet has been a match made in heaven but a few pets have managed to change Maizie's life for the better.
Monica Holloway writes, "When Wills was anxious or sad about something, he confided in Cowboy. Sometimes I'd hear him in his room or the backyard telling Cowboy all his troubles."
Pets are great for children and adults alike but I must agree that when a child with Autism has a special bond with a pet wonderful things happen.
Will's dog Cowboy helped him feel confident when he was around people. His sensory issues were often calmed with Cowboy's presence. My experience with Maizie and Darwin has been the same. Darwin is always there for Maizie and she has been there for him too.
Unfortunately, Cowboy developed Lupus at the young age of two. Will's and Cowboy's days together were cut short.
Holloway writes about talking to Will about Cowboy, "It feels horrible, unthinkable, that Cowboy will die, " I said. And then, using Katherine's words, I told him, "It might even feel like you can't live through it, but you will."
I have this feeling that Cowboy and Wills is more than a book about a boy with Autism and his dog. It truly is a love story.
Do you know that overwhelming gut wrenching emotion that is beyond words, the one where you truly believe you can not and will not survive the pain of it? The pain of a broken heart? Or is our heart breaking in order to fit in more love? Breaking to create more space within our hearts than we ever thought was possible?
We do survive that pain. It can make us better or worse. Ultimately, it is our choice.
Recently Chris's daughter Sally lost her pet snake Clay. Sally's pain and tears were intense when we told her Clay went to snake Heaven. She screamed out, "Noooooo! Why? Why?"
At first we tried to explain and explain and then we realized nothing we could say would stop her pain. Sally had to feel it.
Holloway said it well when comforting Will, "There was nothing I could say to make this any easier. I had run out of words."
I have worked years to get Maizie to communicate feelings to my liking. To carry herself in a way where she would be more likely to fit in. Yet, is she not more beautiful when she is comforting Darwin or a friend without words? We try to fill every moment with sound, with words and explanations. It is no wonder why children with Autism are so drawn to pets. Pets allow them to be exactly who they are.
I have a lot to learn from Darwin and the guinea pigs. Sometimes the best way to get into Maizie's world is to stop expecting her to be totally into mine. There is a beauty to running out of words. Now the difficult part is letting the words float away when I want so badly to speak them.



6 comments:
I'm so glad to see you blogging, (((((HUGS))))). You have been on my mind, so much.
I bought this book, I read her first one, a Memoir, Driving with Dead People. I love how she writes. However, I knew this one was going to be extra special and I can't wait to read it.
Pets heal, pets have a deep, deep spot in our hearts, that is as real as any love I know. I know our pets have helped so much, with Hannah and Christie, and me for that matter.
Beautiful post Marla, and I love seeing the pictures.
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First of all, welcome back to blogland! Secondly, the topic of this post in particular has been on my mind a lot lately since adopting 2 feral kittens recently (who are still in the process of settling in to housecat life, but doing very well!).
I was actually just a few minutes ago pondering scenarios that combined two of my major interests: longevity and cats, and wondering what the difficulty and impact would be of extending lifespans of cats (and other companion animals, such as dogs) so that they lived at least as long as the average human. Of course it is important to be mindful of population issues, i.e., people definitely ought to spay/neuter their cats & dogs, but it would just be so much less sad if we were not generally dealing with burying pets once they reach the age when human children are heading into (or just out of) adolescence.
But, of course for the moment that is just fantasy, and it is important to deal with reality.
And as such, there is always going to be something bittersweet about adopting a cat, dog, guinea pig, etc. -- that is, unless you yourself happen to be quite elderly already, you're almost certainly going to outlive them.
I look at my little 10-week-old kittens running around so energetically and playing and exploring the world with wonder and it is like my mind takes on three different perspectives at once: the present, the near-term future (when they'll be adult cats), and the further future once they become senior kitties.
With any luck they will still be around when I'm heading into my 50s, but 50-something is not very old for a human and I have to accept that I will need to say goodbye to them at some point. And that's just beyond awful to think about. Nevertheless, awful as it is, I would see it as even more terrible to refuse to care deeply for any creature just to save myself from the pain of losing them someday. I have long wrestled existentially with death in general and I still don't like it, but certainly I realize not liking something doesn't mean I get to pretend it doesn't exist.
I actually think this is one of the primary things that DOES feel different about being "grown up" (even though I don't feel like a grownup in other ways most of the time!) -- basically just that sense of transience, whereas in childhood it all seemed so solid and time seemed so slow. However, I think there is a choice people make when they run up against their requisite existential crisis, and as for me I have chosen not despair at what I stand to lose, but delight in what can be seen and explored and wondered at for however long that may turn out to be. This does not of course mitigate the pain of loss, but it is not meant to -- rather, it is a means of integrating the various parts of reality, good and bad, that come with being alive and sharing experiences with other living creatures.
What a beautiful, thoughtful post. I have so missed your writing, and am glad you are blogging again.
Cheryl: Wonderful. Thanks so much for telling me about her first book. I am going to have to read that one too. Hugs right back at ya.;)
Anne:Oh, how I have missed your insights on life Anne. You are amazing. I read your post about the kitties in your life and am in awe. They are beyond adorable. Thank you so much for sharing here.
Pregnantly Plump: I have missed you too...and now I should say I have missed you, Elvis and another little one for me to go ga ga over.
That reminds me of how much I miss my bunny
Man, i miss Bernie. Sure, he drove me crazy sometimes, but he was so cute driving me crazy, and very sweet and forgiving and pretty much my best non-human friend
I lost him right on Halloween after I took him to the vet.
That was just the worse...
Maybe one day once I am caught up on the rent and have a neat apartment I could get another rabbit, but no other bunny would be quite like Bernie was.
Bunnies are awesome.
Welcome back! I missed reading your writing. I found myself nodding my head in agreement with your parenting perspective, especially the part about trying to fill every moment. It's hard for me to step back and let Mackenzie take the lead, but whenever I do she always amazes me with something new.
By the way, welcome to a new community, you know the one that is about to invade EVERY aspect of your life...the military community. I'm working on an all inspiring email, but it's taking a little longer than expected;)
Glad you're back!
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