It amazes me how many people have a 'baby.' Their baby is not a soft, pink infant wrapped up in blankets fresh from the hospital. It's not a drooling toddler wandering around the house and chewing on everything with two teeth. Their babies have fur and whiskers, or scales and fins.
I work with the elderly, and although many of them live alone, they have pets. Every single person over the age of sixty that I have met refers to their pet as their 'baby' their 'child' their 'boy' or 'girl.' They love that pet, small dog or cat usually, as much as they love children. They give it attention all day, they talk to it and believe that it talks back. They listen to every bark, growl, meow, hiss or whimper.
A bit over the top? Maybe, maybe not.
Some people are just animal crazy. They love their pets, sleep with their pets, eat with their pets, (I've seen people share cups and plates with their pets). There are even commercials on TV now that point to the fact that the family pet isn't just an animal, it's a member of the family just like any of the children. Some people definitely take it too far. I mean, I love my cat, but a cat is still just a cat.
Why do people lavish attention on their pets? Why do they become especially important as people age, their families die or stop visiting, they find themselves living alone. Of course the pet is company, a way to make the house feel less empty, someone to sit in your lap and pet and purr.
It's more than that, though.
We don't just need company. We don't just need a friendly purr machine, the knowledge that we are not alone. We, people, humanity, need to be useful. We need to be needed. We need to be able to take care of each other, to help each other, to feel beneficial. I think that, even more than companionship, this is why people who live alone often need pets, why they lavish them with such attention and care. They don't have enough other people in their life to receive that attention, and they need to give it. We need to be able to reach out and take care of someone, to give something of value to another.
One hard part of my job is not being able to take any gifts, tips, etc. I understand the reason for the rule, and it's a good reason. The people I work with can't afford to give much away. People that age can get senile and not remember they gave something away. It's a lawsuit waiting to happen. But nearly every client I see wants to offer me something, a small Christmas present or a bottle of pop on a hot day. I am there to serve them, but they want to get me a glass of water or a snack. I think that some of it goes beyond hospitality and general politeness. They want to give. They want to be useful. It is hard, so hard, to reach that point where you are dependent on everyone around you, and you can give nothing back, especially if you have spent your life unencumbered by disability, taking care of yourself and everyone else. It is a hard change to face, a hard reality to accept, and it can be thoroughly depressing.
We teach children to give. To help each other. To open doors for people and help Mom carry in the groceries. We are taught to help, to give, to serve from a very early age. What happens when we can't do that anymore? We can't remember the time before that when we were babies, when we had nothing to give and were completely dependent for everything.
I like to help people. I have always been taught to help people. But I have also been taught to be independent and take care of myself. Everyone in my family has a hard time accepting help. We don't want it, we don't want to appear weak, to be a burden. And yet we help others. We contradict ourselves with our actions. If we want to help, we need to let ourselves be helped. We need to accept it graciously and realize there is no embarrassment. But it is hard, so hard. There is pride in helping, in doing for others, but there is none in receiving it, only humility.
I wonder what I will do when I am on the other side?
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