Tracey Stewart - Do Unto Animals: A Friendly Guide to How Animals Live, and How We Can Make Their Lives Better

DO UNTO

A FRIENDLY GUIDE TO
How Animals Live, and How We Can Make Their Lives Better

ILLUSTRATIONS BY LISEL ASHLOCK

To Jon, Nate, and Maggie

Thank you for giving me to this project many, many, many times. For inspiring and supporting me. For sharing in the joy, the love, the care, and the respect for our very large family.

Contents

Introduction

Love of animals was part of me from the very beginning. There are pictures of my mother pregnant with me, a bird on her head, a rabbit in her arms, and a dog at her feet. It was the late 1960s, so also by her side sat Aunt Ginny puffing away on a Pall Mall cigarette. I like to think I was soaking up more of the animal pheromones than of the secondhand smoke, but it makes for a convenient excuse for any deficiency I may have. As much as I loved animals, though, I never thought I could actually pursue a career working with them... for a couple of reasons.

1. I was not good at math. I remember telling Mrs. Jessup, my second-grade math teacher, that my dream was to become a veterinarian when I grew up. She quickly admonished me with Youll never be a veterinarian unless you apply yourself more in math. I heeded her words and decided then and there that I would do something that had nothing to do with math.

2. I came from a long line of scrappers. Each generation of my English/Irish family had inched their way up from a baseline of poverty, bettering themselves a little bit more than the previous generation but always being mindful to not be considered by the elders as getting too big for their breeches. We were an incredibly kindhearted crew with a confounding mix of arrogance and insecurity, lovable and deeply flawed. We were not a group that followed our passions, despite the fact that we were quite passionate. Instead we figured out a safe and practical path: a good job that we may not have particularly liked but that by God we would do diligently until the sweet relief of weekends, holidays, or death! Thinking I would become a veterinarian would have been too lofty, and working with animals in any other way would have been considered folly.

But I was good at art. It came easily to me, so my career path was decided. I went to a college that offered not only art but also business... safe. I spent my twenties and thirties working in every area a design degree might take you: art gallery, waitressing, architecture, interior design, graphic design, bathing suit and lingerie design. Ive never not gotten a job I interviewed for and Ive never been fired, which means I had a lot of jobs that I didnt actually like and I stayed in those jobs for far too long. From the outside, it probably looked like I loved all my jobs. I was a hard worker. In reality I dreaded every weekday morning and was exhilarated to be released at the end of each workday.

Luckily for me, I met my future husband and he quickly went to work studying me. He was confused that I was seemingly so capable of great joy and emotion and yet spent a good portion of my life bored to tears and uninspired. It was the first time someone had called into question the risk of taking the safe route. Of course, I didnt go down without a fight. There were other rationalizations I had invented to keep me comfortably bored. Animals always occupied a lot of space in my heart. If I were to work with animals on a more regular basis, how would I ever be able to handle the sheer volume of loss I perceived I would experience? When I was nine, I signed up to receive newsletters from an animal rights organization. My parents had to intercept the mailers before they got to me because seeing the graphic images of animals suffering was something I couldnt easily recover from. In contemplating a transition into the veterinary field, I theorized that I wouldnt be able to see an animal in pain, and I certainly wouldnt be able to handle death or euthanasia. My boring job that didnt make me cry held a strange comfort for me. My man challenged me, though. He believed that I was the kind of person who needed to have a job that made me cry. He was right. (Note: This is not to say that my husband is always right, because more often than not I am the one who is right, but Ill give him this one.)

I decided to go back to school for a degree in veterinary technology. Joy and inspiration were what I found. Working in a veterinary clinic brought many tears, but most were happy. Those photos of animals suffering that upset me when I was young did so partially because they made me feel helpless, and now I was no longer helpless. I was prepared and right there, ready to provide care. That person who dreaded death and euthanasia became the go-to tech for those moments. I found it profoundly rewarding to be able to comfort both the animals about to pass and the people who would miss them beyond words when they were gone. I witnessed so many beautiful moments during those times. Another surprising thing that happened was that I became good at math. Apparently, it just needed to be applied to something I cared about. Take that, Mrs. Jessup!

My flight on animal love endorphins took a four-year detour when I had my kids. Caring for them when they were infants and toddlers felt quite similar to my work in veterinary medicine. Beautiful innocence, constant checking of vitals, and lots and lots of poop. During this time I created a caf that focused primarily on feeding exhausted, overwhelmed parents with nourishing organic fare while engaging kids in their natural love of animals through classes and art projects. Parents were being nurtured up front while their kids were learning about compassion in the back. It was lovely while it lasted, but as my kids started to get older they were begging to get out into the world. I knew from experience the gift that animals offered me, and I was eager to share that with my children in a more meaningful way. I was also happy to get out of the cafs basement and away from payroll. Just because I didnt fear math anymore didnt mean I liked it.

Luckily, my kids are as obsessed with animals as I am. We began volunteering at a local shelter as a family. My kids would read to all the animals and make adoption videos of the dogs and cats that were especially good with kids. Rather than feeling powerless to help as I did when I was a kid, my own kids felt empowered. They were able to be advocates, defenders, and nurturers. Their voices were heard and they made things happen. In two instances specifically, a shelter dog was adopted the day after their video aired. Their creativity and ingenuity were on fire. They came up with animated adoption videos, bake sales, jewelry sales, craft sales, and any other type of sale to raise awareness and funds for their now close friends at the shelter. They gave up getting birthday presents, instead collecting shelter supplies. They told friends, relatives, classmates, and anyone who would listen about the potential great buddy that was just waiting for them at the shelter. When a dog or cat friend got adopted and it was time to say good-bye, there were tearsbut I now knew how essential crying was. That taste of selflessness was much needed for their little developing brains and hearts.