I remember watching the news with some curiosity, and a way of impending change. “Hold on to your socks,” someone said, “that is going to be big.”
China had just implemented a nationwide lockdown over a rapidly spreading virus. All of us now know the way this is able to irrevocably change our lives over the approaching years, stuffed with twists and turns and just plain change. So. Much. Change. Cats, too, had a life-changing experience as a species, gleaning from the virus a life-saving treatment for a previously uniformly fatal disease, but that may be a topic for an additional day.
Many stories grew out of the pandemic- veterinary medicine and life throughout the career was no exception. We still went into the clinic, when most everyone stayed home. The face of the veterinary career modified overnight, something as a career we’re generally slow to do, so this was eye opening.
Telehealth with cats and dogs suddenly became acceptable let alone commonplace, cats got here in for visits but no owners were allowed into clinics so “curbside service” became a brand new buzzword, clinic hours were shortened, and the world outside became still, peaceful, ghostlike. The roads were empty. Parking lots abandoned. Most everyone else was working from home.
But for cats like Pancake, it simply meant I used to be home a bit more, and perhaps there was an additional feeding available?
I’ve at all times found a way of serenity within the presence of a cat. They embody peace. They sleep like I wish I could: easily, at any time or place, in essentially the most uncomfortable positions, all with ease. Similarly they’ve worked themselves into some amazing environs as a species: at the bottom of the Great Wall of China, cats loiter.
Within the temples of Thailand, cats fastidiously clean their unspeakables in front of shimmering gold Buddhas and attending Buddha worshipers. They live in among the most arid regions of West Australia, and pandemic? What pandemic? For them, life goes on.
But for humans, the pandemic taught us rather a lot about ourselves- how can we handle struggles, and the way can we learn to be kind to ourselves, after we’ve spent our lives primarily learning to be kind to others, at our own expense? Mental health became a hot topic, as we tried to reply this query.
So what exactly is mental health? One accepted definition of mental health is that it encompasses our emotional, psychological, and social well-being. It impacts our thoughts, actions, and feelings, and determines how we react. It involves every stage of our life- from childhood to death.
To me, I see mental health because the image of a cat in front of a warm fireplace on a winter’s eve. It’s stopping, recharging, living within the moment. They are saying happiness comes from living in the current, and unhappiness from living in the long run or the past. Cats are masters of this.
Pancake moreso than most. Currently asleep on the bed with Tiller, each well right into a late morning nap (now progressing into late afternoon as I write): they’ve, in any case, slept all night and a lot of the preceding day, but awoke at 4 am to religiously check the automated feeder every quarter-hour until it opened and a brand new day’s food spilled out. Hence, they’re exhausted.
But one other interesting side to mental health has recently arisen: the reciprocal nature of cats, or any pets for that matter, on human mental health. The term is zooeyia.
Zooeyia is derived from Greek for animal (zoion) and the Greek Goddess of health (Hygeia). It incorporates the positive health advantages that humans derive from their interactions with animals. Research suggests that entire national health economies are positively impacted by pet ownership to the tune of hundreds of thousands of dollars saved in healthcare outlay, and the actual physical health advantages have been studied and postulated for many years.
On a private level, it’s easy to see. After a protracted week, when Saturday night rolls around, I’m pleased to be at home with the cats. This past weekend, for instance, I built a cat feeding puzzle toy out of a used present wrapping paper roll. It was the most important version of this particular treat puzzle ever recorded within the history of homemade treat puzzles (IMHO), and it kept the cats (okay, mostly me) entertained for about two hours! In the long run, we had an affordable night in. And, I feel the cats were pleased. If nothing else, they’d some dreams.
In the long run, perhaps mental health is the straightforward things in life. Possibly the crux of all of it is that laughter, and a cat, and taking the time to live within the moment are high-quality definitions of mental health. Though in fact, a dream or two never hurts.