By All Appearances

Wag-A-Lot - Summer 2003

It looks like we will have a white Christmas after all. The snow, heavy and wet, began falling early this morning. The weather people predict anywhere from 10 – 16 inches over the next 24 hours, so I decided to clear the driveway throughout the day rather than do one big removal.

I am quite a sight when I’m out shoveling. My apparel range from a paint-splatter pair of jeans, a men’s ugly green hoodie and whatever jacket I can find that will fit over all the layers of clothes and keep me dry. With a tuque (pronounced tu:k, what we Yoopers call a ski hat) pulled over my unbrushed hair, I look like some hermit who just crawled out of a cave. So I must admit I was somewhat embarrassed when a neighborhood lady stopped by to chat while I was out shoveling.

Coming from a family with all daughters, you would have thought I would have some sense of fashion. But ask any of my sisters or parents and they would say my clothing choices leave much to be desired. For many years, my outfit of choice was Oshkosh bib overalls, a t-shirt and a pair of Birkenstocks. I was comfortable but that didn’t stop my family from criticizing my clothes even to the point of telling me to change before I could accompany them. I often asked myself why people are so concerned with appearances.

Being around animals, I have witnessed periods of territorialism where members of a group will be pushed or chased away from a food source. But I have never witnessed animals chased away solely based on their appearance. One of the last litters of squirrels that I raised included a male whose tail was amputated when their nest tree was cut down. Wag-a-lot had a stump about 1 inch long with a furry end, much like a poodle’s docked tail. Despite his disability, Wag-a-lot was always accepted by his two brothers and in many instances was the dominant littermate. He climbed as well as the other two and although his jumping abilities lacked distance (squirrels use their tails for balance), Wag-a-lot overcame his limitations and was successfully released.

In my own cat family, there have been numerous instances of compassion for members who looked less than stellar. This was particularly true when Tristan, Max and Thomas had reached the end of their lives. These old guys, well into their late teens/early twenties experienced severe weight loss that accompanies kidney disease and diabetes. They had lost the vigor of youth, their fur now greasy, eyes sunken, and their movement slow and deliberate. But instead of ostracizing the old guys, the younger cats took it upon themselves to groom them. I would often find the younger cats curled around the older ones, keeping them warm and protected.  There was no ridicule, no rejection, only love in action.

I often think that we humans  put too much emphasis on appearances. How quickly we judge others by how they dress, their skin color, their weight and their physical or mental limitations. How many people have we deprived of our friendship simply because they don’t look like us? And what experiences have we denied ourselves because we didn’t take the chance to extend a hand of friendship to someone different from ourselves? Life, like nature is diverse, filled with sights and sounds, smells and experiences that woven together bring a richness and depth to our world.