Carolyn and I traveled to Arizona this month. We took the pups with us and, as always, they charmed everyone they met, including the flight attendants on every airplane. Because they work as service animals for me, they can ride together and they can ride on our laps instead of under the seats. I do a lot of explaining about how it is that Zuza can know that my blood sugar is falling too fast and what Lukas would do if I lost consciousness.
On our last flight coming home, one attendant was particularly interested. Zuza was being her perfect traveller self and sleeping soundly, while Lukas was being himself, fidgeting and flirting with anyone who spoke to him. So, when the flight attendant offered me water, it was Lukas who accepted it with his neck stretched out just as far as it could possibly be stretched. She melted, and said how very much she loved animals.
When we were deplaning--and we were the last ones to do so--she came and told us this story. She has a cat that she loves immensely, and last year was very confused by his behavior. She was lying on her left side, on the bed, with her head propped up on her hand and inviting the cat to hop up next to her for a snuggle. He hopped up, but would not come close, only hissed at her and growled and stared in the direction of her left breast. She could feel something under under her and thought that it was one of those little furry mouse toys that every cat in the world (and my dog, Zuza) loves. Maybe that was what he wanted--although it was an odd reaction from his usual loving self. So she reached under her, and instead of a toy, she found a lump. A big lump. And yes, it was malignant. And until the day that she had it removed, her cat would not let her hold him up to her chest. As soon as the cancer was gone, he reverted to his snuggling self. He knew that the cancer was there, and that it was wrong. She said, "He saved my life."
They are so much wiser than we can know.
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