The Final Gift We Can Give Our Animals

My mom adopted a cat who suddenly found himself in need of a home. He wasn’t abandoned, and he wasn’t turned into a shelter. He lived with a couple, and the wife passed away after a long illness. The following year, the husband passed away suddenly.

We put plans in place for our children if something happens to us, but how often are we doing that for our animals?

Very often, I see rescues and shelters posting animals that have suddenly lost their humans. The shelters tend to make that animal a priority because they’re confused and scared. They aren’t adapting to the shelter environment, and it’s affecting their emotional well-being. Left in that situation long-term, the animal may become depressed and withdrawn. It may begin to affect their physical health, and they may get overlooked by a potential new family.

I’m single, I live alone, and I’m working to put a plan in place for all of my animals in case something unexpectedly happens to me. I’ve set aside a little money to help them get started in their new home.

When we are creating wills or preplanning our final arrangements, it’s important to keep in mind who we are leaving behind. We always expect our animals will go before us, but it isn’t always the case. We make preparations for our spouses and our children so that they’re in a secure place if we go before them. We should also consider our animals.

We should talk to our spouses and our children to ensure that they will be able to continue caring for our non-human best friends. If we live alone, we should talk to our family members and friends and try to secure a backup home for them to make a confusing transition a little smoother. And if we’re able to put aside a little bit of money to get them started in their new home with food or cat litter, especially if they have special needs or special diets, it would make the transition a little smoother for the new humans as well.

Our animal companions give us so much that we can give them a final gift of securing their future when we are no longer a part of that future.

Welcome

This space is a mix of thoughts, experiences, and lessons that have one through my work with animals, energy, and grief. Some posts will be quiet reflections, others will lean more into the science or philosophy behind what I do. It’s a place where the practical meets the spiritual, and where I can share the pieces of this work that don’t always fit neatly anywhere else.

You’ll find posts about navigating loss, finding signs and comfort after death, and the things our animals continue to teach us long after they’re gone. You’ll also find writing about topics like compassion fatigue, the emotional side of animal care, and how we sometimes project our emotions onto the animals that we love and what that really means.

Not everything here will be mystical or heavy. Some of it will just be real life. A collection of things I've learned from the animals I live with, what they’ve taught me about patience, trust, and energy, or even the small ways they’ve shown me that connection doesn’t end when the physical body does.

I hope you find something here that resonates, whether it helps you feel seen, understood, or simply less alone in your experiences.

They feel too

Feeling isn’t a human gift, it’s a living language shared by all beings.

I read an opinion post on social media one day and the topic was the great anthropomorphic debate. The comments ranged from the dangers of anthropomorphism to the benefits. One comment in particular caught my attention. It stated that anthropomorphism is important because it creates empathy and makes it easier for us to answer moral dilemmas. It went on to say that it also allows us to relate to animals on a closer level, thus increasing our compassion for them. This is an argument I often use to illustrate the importance of it. She then went on to say that it is bad science for scientists to use anthropomorphism because it isn't scientifically sound to affix human emotions to animals.

Anthropomorphism is the attribution of human traits, emotions, or intentions to non-human entities, such as animals, objects, or natural phenomena. It’s commonly used in our daily conversations. Saying a dog looks guilty after doing something wrong or saying “she is being temperamental” when referring to a car are examples we often hear.

It's a topic that divides many in the scientific and spirituality communities. The argument against it says that it's inaccurate and can lead to misinterpretation- and it can. However, it is scientifically irresponsible to dismiss it entirely and it has led us to weaponize the term.

I see it getting thrown around a lot when someone refers to their animal as being happy or able to form bonds. Recognizing emotion in animals isn’t naïve, it’s realistic. Science no longer supports the idea that only humans think or feel. Reptiles, fish, and even insects are showing signs of memory, problem-solving, emotional response, and sentience. Dismissing that as ‘just anthropomorphism’ is a failure to evolve with the evidence. The beautiful thing about science is that it changes constantly based on emerging research. We’ve really only started giving true credence to mammalian sentience in recent decades. And only very recently have we started to really put the effort into studying sentience in other vertebrates and vertebrates.

“Differences in emotional experience don’t invalidate emotional presence.”

We've always dismissed reptiles as having only survival instincts. The Trion brain theory is outdated and has long been disproven. Human ego, and our need for superiority causes us to cling to these old outdated theories.

Describing animals as having emotions is important because it can help people relate emotionally to non-human animals. It leads to empathy. If we believe a non-human animal can’t feel sadness, fear, or loneliness then we will be less likely to dismiss it. The term has been used as a way to dismiss or belittle someone’s emotional connection to an animal.

But here's the thing.

Animals do experience emotions. Their worlds don't revolve around us. They have their own internal worlds. When we say an animal is happy or sad, we aren't saying that they experience it the same way that humans do. We're saying, they experience it in whatever way they experience it, we just may not know HOW they experience it.

But truthfully…

We don't know how each other experiences emotions either. Emotions are subjective and internal. The way we experience them is based on our personal life experiences. We can’t fully access anyone’s inner world. I may not experience happiness in the same way as the lady ahead of me in the checkout lane.

All we can do is interpret outward behavior and honor that different beings may have different inner realities. Differences in emotional experience don’t invalidate emotional presence. Just because your dog doesn’t cry or your snake doesn’t exhibit facial expressions, doesn’t mean it experiences nothing on the inside. It means they express them in their own species-specific ways.

Can it be misleading?

Sure it can. Many primates, including monkeys and chimpanzees, will bare their teeth in a way that might look like a human smile, but to them, that expression often signals fear, submission, or anxiety, not happiness.

Humans tend to interpret facial expressions based on our own emotional cues, so we see the exposed teeth and think, “Oh, they’re smiling!” when the animal is actually saying, “Please don’t hurt me.”

This type of interpretation can be dangerous, especially when people interact with wild or exotic animals thinking they understand their emotions, when in reality, they’re reading them through a human filter.

Do we need to exercise discernment when referring to an animal’s ability to feel?

Yes, but denying it completely as negligent. Putting our egos aside and catching up with science is emotional intelligence.