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Commentary: The animals we live with
Sybil Erden
It must have started with Charlie, this connection, this compassion for animals that are considered "less than perfect."
Charlie was born in my home in the Coronado district of Phoenix, back in 1988 or '89, back in the dark ages when we were still being told that for the health of our pets to allow for one litter of kittens or puppies before spaying.
Kittles, a long hair tabby had her litter of four kittens in my walk-in closet. She was a wonderful and doting mom. The babies thrived, but there was one who was smaller, whose head seemed somehow malformed, smaller above the eyes than his siblings. At 10 days or so when the other kittens' eyes began to open, the tiny black and white kitten's eyes opened only slightly and showed only white.
I took him to the vet's office where I learned about anopthalmia which means "no eyes." There was damage to one of the DNA strands which controlled the development of eyes, heart and lungs.
The vet suggested euthanizing the two- week old mewling infant. I was told that he would not live to be four weeks, certainly not to weaning. I rejected the suggestion and took the baby home.
He was named Charlie Wonder, after Ray Charles and Stevie Wonder, both blind geniuses.
Charlie beat the odds. Although his eyes never opened further and he was entirely without sight, he used his ears as little radar dishes and wiggled his nose like a dog, fine-tuning his senses of hearing and smell, navigating his world successfully through the senses he had.
Charlie lived to be 11 years old, moving from his original house into several others where he always adjusted well. He remained the size of a 5-month-old kitten, which allowed his underdeveloped heart and lungs to sustain him.
I learned more from Charlie than from almost anyone else, human or other animal, I had ever known at that time. I learned from Charlie that animals do not have the words "should" or "if only" in their internal vocabularies. They know the past and learn from it. But they live in the here-and-now, accepting their situations and condition, not as limitations, but as just something to deal with in order to survive.
Charlie was the godfather of the "handicapped" animals who have followed the animals who, due to their less-than-perfect state had been rejected, the ones who now call The Oasis home. Birds like Sassy, born with her feet pointing up in the air, who walks and runs on the tops of her feet; Ellie, who lost a wing to a raccoon and found her self homeless; Blue the Amazon with one eye, and of course, the deaf puppies, three legged dogs and all too many others who have found sanctuary here.
I have come to believe there is no such thing as "less than perfect" or "handicapped." We are all less than we could be, and more than we realize. We, with our flaws and limitations, are all perfect. We contain within our souls that spark.
During the last year of his life, when we had moved to Benson with the Sanctuary, Charlie's health began to fail. At 11 he had the weaknesses of a cat far older than he. He slept much of the time and no longer climbed and jumped as before.
Charlie Wonder is buried along side birds, dogs and wild life in The Oasis' small cemetery, where he watches over us and can, at last, see the world in its colorful splendor.
(Sybil Erden is director of The Oasis Sanctuary for exotic birdd in Cascabel near Redington Pass.)
It must have started with Charlie, this connection, this compassion for animals that are considered "less than perfect."
Charlie was born in my home in the Coronado district of Phoenix, back in 1988 or '89, back in the dark ages when we were still being told that for the health of our pets to allow for one litter of kittens or puppies before spaying.
Kittles, a long hair tabby had her litter of four kittens in my walk-in closet. She was a wonderful and doting mom. The babies thrived, but there was one who was smaller, whose head seemed somehow malformed, smaller above the eyes than his siblings. At 10 days or so when the other kittens' eyes began to open, the tiny black and white kitten's eyes opened only slightly and showed only white.
I took him to the vet's office where I learned about anopthalmia which means "no eyes." There was damage to one of the DNA strands which controlled the development of eyes, heart and lungs.
The vet suggested euthanizing the two- week old mewling infant. I was told that he would not live to be four weeks, certainly not to weaning. I rejected the suggestion and took the baby home.
He was named Charlie Wonder, after Ray Charles and Stevie Wonder, both blind geniuses.
Charlie beat the odds. Although his eyes never opened further and he was entirely without sight, he used his ears as little radar dishes and wiggled his nose like a dog, fine-tuning his senses of hearing and smell, navigating his world successfully through the senses he had.
Charlie lived to be 11 years old, moving from his original house into several others where he always adjusted well. He remained the size of a 5-month-old kitten, which allowed his underdeveloped heart and lungs to sustain him.
I learned more from Charlie than from almost anyone else, human or other animal, I had ever known at that time. I learned from Charlie that animals do not have the words "should" or "if only" in their internal vocabularies. They know the past and learn from it. But they live in the here-and-now, accepting their situations and condition, not as limitations, but as just something to deal with in order to survive.
Charlie was the godfather of the "handicapped" animals who have followed the animals who, due to their less-than-perfect state had been rejected, the ones who now call The Oasis home. Birds like Sassy, born with her feet pointing up in the air, who walks and runs on the tops of her feet; Ellie, who lost a wing to a raccoon and found her self homeless; Blue the Amazon with one eye, and of course, the deaf puppies, three legged dogs and all too many others who have found sanctuary here.
I have come to believe there is no such thing as "less than perfect" or "handicapped." We are all less than we could be, and more than we realize. We, with our flaws and limitations, are all perfect. We contain within our souls that spark.
During the last year of his life, when we had moved to Benson with the Sanctuary, Charlie's health began to fail. At 11 he had the weaknesses of a cat far older than he. He slept much of the time and no longer climbed and jumped as before.
Charlie Wonder is buried along side birds, dogs and wild life in The Oasis' small cemetery, where he watches over us and can, at last, see the world in its colorful splendor.
(Sybil Erden is director of The Oasis Sanctuary for exotic birdd in Cascabel near Redington Pass.)
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