Unexpected Joys: How Pets and Gratitude Practice Transformed My Life
I suppose that’s the nature of a gratitude practice - not only do you recognize the good things in your life, but it almost intrinsically makes you devote more love and care to those things, increasing the good they bring to your life exponentially.
I’ve been incorporating a gratitude journal into my morning routine for the past few months, and I’m noticing some patterns emerge. No matter how much I try to diversify the things I’m grateful for and expand the range of things I express gratitude for intentionally, the same few things regularly pop into my head and are undeniable sources of joy in my life.
One unsurprising thing that comes up consistently is my family. Whether that’s just me being grateful for them in general or thankful for a specific experience we’d recently had, they show up repeatedly. I consider myself lucky every single day to have the close relationship with them that I do. I am glad to have them every single day.
The thing I add to my gratitude list more frequently than I expected to is my pets. Don’t get me wrong - I’m a pet person. I’ve always known I loved my animals dearly. Even so, given how generally neat and in control of things I like to be, I was surprised by just how grateful I am to have them in my life despite the messiness and general havoc they create. Fellow pet owners will understand.
There is endless cat and dog hair on absolutely everything, absolutely everything. There’s no escaping it. I’ve given up trying. Our dog Atlas is the neediest little attention-seeking dog I’ve ever met and can’t stand to be more than three feet away from whoever is home at any given time. He’s also learned how to open the front door, sometimes even when locked, so keeping him and our cats contained is an endless battle.
Our three little gargoyles. Our four cats generally live up to the stereotype of being mischievous and destructive animals. They chew things, run off with others, and often knock stuff off the counter just for the hell of it or because they are surprisingly clumsy for animals that are supposed to be grateful. They also create messes of other kinds. Just this week, my family and I woke up to cat vomit on the counter, which I’d love to say is a rare occurrence, but it’s not. This, however, wasn’t just any cat vomit - it was a regurgitated lizard. I still haven’t recovered.
And yet…
Every morning when my mom comes in to say goodbye before leaving for work, our dog Atlas and our youngest kitty (Boots, who has practically imprinted on me) run in for morning cuddles that start my day off just right. Every day at some point in the workday, at least one of the animals comes over and demands attention. While it can be annoying during busy times, usually, it’s a perfect reminder to take a little break from work and give them some love.
Every night as I head to bed, without fail, Boots follows me to the bedroom and sits on the counter with his front paws practically in my sink as I wash my face and brush my teeth. He doesn’t try to do anything naughty (usually), like knock anything over or paw at me. He simply watches me do my thing, sometimes sniffs whatever product I’m slathering over my face, and chills with me. It’s our sweet nightly ritual.
Whenever I attempt to work from my bed, Boots, Atlas, or even our older, fatter cat Karter will inevitably try to occupy the space taken up by my laptop. If it’s Atlas, he usually does so while laying on his back, begging for belly rubs, and looking at me with the cutest, dopiest face you’ve ever seen. If it’s one of the cats, they will purr so loudly and incessantly that it’s like listening to a meditation sound that calms me down, no matter my mental state.
When making my morning coffee, our oldest and grumpiest cat Luna will occasionally swerve between my legs and scream at me in her demanding meow. I know what she wants. Luna doesn’t want food, water, or even a treat. She wants me to pick her up and hold her like a baby for a few minutes. Once I do, she stops screaming and purrs like nobody’s business. After a few minutes, I set her on the couch, and she’s right as rain, returning to being aloof.
Our other cat Crookshanks is the most mild-mannered of all the animals, but even he has his quirks. He gets a thrill out of going outside with Atlas. He doesn’t go far and doesn’t usually even attempt to hunt. He likes to be out, sunbathing and rolling around on the concrete or crushed gravel. Unlike the other cats, he won’t meow when he wants something. He will just get uncharacteristically affectionate and stare at you intently as if he’s trying to let you know what he needs telepathically. We’re just dumb humans who need a little extra time to figure things out, after all. But when he feels affectionate, without ulterior motive, he sidles up to wherever you’re sitting and nestles himself into your side. He seldom sits on your lap but instead sits right next to you, as close as he can be, and makes his delicious biscuits.
Karter, our big, fat, Garfield-looking cat, will whine for just about anything and look at you with his stupid cute face like he’s so innocent and sweet (which he is). But then he’ll turn around and nip at you if you don’t give him whatever he wants (usually milk or cuddles) immediately. Karter also makes it his mission to harass Luna until she’s screeching for help, and one of us rescues her. Unlike many cats, he gets really into it when you pet him. He will roll over onto his back just like Atlas and revel in having his belly rubbed, purring his special purr that sounds more like a cooing dove than a purring cat.
I’m not sure if I would have developed such a deep appreciation for them if I wasn’t working from home and interacting with them almost constantly, but I can’t ignore the joy they bring to my life every day. That realization has made me all the more intent on interacting with them more often and taking as good care of them as they do of me. I suppose that’s the nature of a gratitude practice - not only do you recognize the good things in your life, but it almost intrinsically makes you devote more love and care to those things, increasing the good they bring to your life exponentially.
There are a couple of things I hope you take from this:
If you don’t have pets, get some if you can logistically manage them, whether that means cats, dogs, lizards (RIP), fish, guinea pigs, or whatever. There’s no understating the joy (and occasional struggle) pets can bring to your life when you make a point to love them well.
If you do have pets, go love on them! Give them their favorite treats, hang out with them in their favorite places, interact with them however you can as often as possible. We never have long enough with them, so soak up the time you do get.
If you don’t have one already, start a gratitude practice! Many studies highlight the benefits of developing a gratitude practice, but sometimes it takes first-person experience to make those benefits seem real. I know it did for me. I felt silly for a long time. Writing that I was grateful for my family, pets, morning coffee, or beautiful sunsets felt trivial. Expressing gratitude for more intense things like being thankful for my health, the privilege of having a roof over my head and food in my belly, my dogged determination to grow, or my ability to maintain hope when things seem hopeless felt even sillier. It felt as if I was taking life and myself way too seriously. But I promise that you will be happier over time, and the good things in your life will continue to grow as you acknowledge them. Suffer through the cringe. It’s absolutely worth it.
If you have or have had pets, what do/did they bring to your life? If you have a gratitude practice, how has it gone? Have you noticed any significant benefits or surprising things you appreciate consistently? Let me know in the comments!
