I've a 14-year-old cat, Poker, who tolerates my coming and goings with some disdain. She's learned that a certain level of frenzy, in concert with the green suitcase on the living room floor surrounded by toiletries and clothes, means I'm going to disappear for a few days. Sometimes I have a pet sitter who watches her comings and goings. Sometimes my assistant takes her from my home to the office for a few hours company.. But there are many long weekends when, because my yard is on the pathway for raccoons, Poker's cat door is closed and she is housebound with a food dispenser, a litter box, several water sources and various blankets. Because I was once told by an animal lover that pets understand more than we believe, I choose to say good-bye to Poker and follow it with a comment about the length of my absence in days and nights in much the same way I'd say it to a child. O. K. It's not logical but it's also not hurting anyone and it makes me feel better about abandoning this faithful companion.

The point is that every time I return I find Poker standing by the door, ready with her welcome routine. I'm immediately subjected to a form of "cat talk" I hear at no other time, followed by 3 hrs of ignoring me completely then sticking so close to me she borders on being a nuisance. This is not an experience shared by the caretakers who come and go while I'm away. They report she's never by the door. Instead they find her on my bed or my favorite chair. They claim they are mostly ignored although she enjoys being petted and will come to the kitchen if they pop the lid on a can of cat food.

The point of all this is background for a reminder that when life seems rough, animals can teach us a lot about unconditional love. Studies support that petting a dog or cat lowers blood pressure and heart rate and decreases anxiety in most people. Elders who own pets have less illness and live longer than those who live alone. My memory of my mother's best emotional state, after my dad's death, was when she owned a small dog. Mother would never tolerate the "mess" toddlers left in her house but she never complained about any mess the dog created. When mother's lungs got fragile she decided that dog hair might be contributing to her breathing difficulty so she gave the dog away. My siblings and I became aware of the significant mental and emotional decline that followed mother's loss of the companion who gave her someone to talk to, someone to care about and someone who needed her on a daily basis.

One of the most useful strategies for getting out of a funk is doing something for someone else. In my opinion, having a pet is a good place to start.