Indholdsfortegnelse for Nov/Dec 2021 i All Creatures

HERE IT IS, I think as I pull the ornament from its special silk pouch. It’s the first one I look for every year when I open our container of Christmas decorations. The paw print-shaped ornament frames a photo of me holding Charlie as a puppy. My husband, Dave, and I had adopted him just two weeks before Christmas and my mother-in-law had given us this ornament for our first holiday as a family of three. Among a few others—a glittery ballerina, a handmade nutcracker and my kids’ first ornaments—this one is a favorite of mine. I’ll never forget that first Christmas with Charlie. He was 10 weeks old and curious about everything—including our tree. Dave and I love to decorate a real tree, but we didn’t expect our beagle…

Had I made the right decision getting these horses? I paced in our home near Norfolk, England, waiting for the horse whisperer to pull into the drive. I’d found his information in an equine magazine. He claimed to help people with difficult horses. I was desperate. My two horses ran from me or lashed out. What if I couldn’t make them feel settled? What if I failed with them as I had with so much in my life? My son, Richard, then 11 years old, had convinced me to adopt a small pony, Gus, several months earlier. Richard had a Saturday job tending horses for a neighbor. “Please, Mum, please! I’ll take such good care of him,” he pleaded. We had the land, and Gus had been abandoned. He needed…

“LOOK, ED! THERE HE IS!” I said, pointing to a cat walking slowly up the sidewalk in front of the motel. My husband and I were spending a week on Chincoteague Island, Virginia. I’d spotted the cat—a skinny white and brown creature—our first day there as we unloaded our luggage. The little guy looked hungry. All we had was some milk in the mini fridge, so I poured it into a dish and set it just outside our door. He trotted over, lapping up every drop before wandering off. The next morning, he was back. He was older—seven or eight was my guess—and in bad shape. One of his eyes looked infected. But his front paws had been declawed and he was neutered. You must have been somebody’s pet, I…

Who They Are It all started in Debbie and Jorge Garcia-Bengochea’s barn, where special-needs students stopped by to interact with two friendly miniature horses the couple had as pets. Debbie, a school principal at the time, invited a few students and their families to come meet Molly and Sugar. She noticed how the horses calmed the children. It inspired her to learn more about the human-animal bond, so she brought some of her smaller pets—a rabbit and hamster—into one of the classrooms at school. The positive interactions encouraged her to go further. Not long after that, Debbie and Jorge carefully led another miniature horse into a homebound neighbor’s house so the woman could get an up close experience. Debbie realized there were many people who couldn’t come outside to see…

PING! MY PHONE CHIMED. I swiped open Letgo, an app for buying and selling used goods. Someone was interested in the car sunshade I’d posted. I coordinated a time and place to meet the buyer. Meanwhile my mind wandered to my father, Adolph—or Molly, as I used to call him. A mispronunciation of a German word for “chubby.” A hardworking, practical Austrian immigrant, Dad would’ve been proud I was trying to sell something I no longer needed. Dad died in 2016. He’d lived with me for the last nine years of his life. One of my favorite memories was our trip to New Mexico. That’s where Dad bought the pastel painting of parrots that hangs in my entryway. He liked to say it reminded him of the three of us—my…

Every time I hold a baby squirrel in my hands, I feel a sense of wonder and gratitude at what I’m being entrusted with, at what God is asking me to do. I’m 27 and I volunteer as the squirrel team leader for Tri-County Wildlife Care (TCWC), a nonprofit rescue that rehabilitates and cares for injured, orphaned or displaced squirrels, birds and other wildlife in northern California’s Amador, Calaveras and San Joaquin counties. During the past seven years, I’ve helped hundreds of “patients” heal and grow and, eventually, return to the wild. It’s emotionally demanding work. Some days are hard, made harder by the fact that I have chronic intractable migraine disease. I live with disabling headache pain. So why do I pour so much of myself into taking care…

Imagine being a child, unable to see well. Your eyes are tested, dilated, puffed with air or squirted with liquid, and now you’re told you’ll need to wear glasses. Or perhaps, an eye patch. It can all be very scary. Enter master optician Danielle Crull, who started her practice in Mechanics-burg, Pennsylvania, specifically for youth—infants through teens—who need glasses. In 2002, she opened A Child’s Eyes, the first independent optical shop of its kind in the United States, and now runs the practice with the help of her husband and their three children, who are all in their twenties and board-certified opticians. Wearing glasses as a kid prompted Danielle’s interest in the field and she jumped in with an apprenticeship right out of high school, before earning her national certifications.…

“HOP IN THE TRUCK!” Dad called to my brother, Gordon, and me. It was a Saturday morning in early December. Most eight-year-olds were probably still in their pajamas, but I grabbed my winter coat and rushed outside. Dad worked for a furniture company in Wausau, Wisconsin, and Gordon and I loved riding along on his deliveries. Dad was a quiet man who worked long hours, and this was the only time we got to spend with him. We pulled up to an old country house, where an elderly couple lived. Dad carried their new table and chairs into the house. Gordon and I stayed in the front yard, playing with the couple’s Boston terrier, Bobby. I hardly noticed the cold as the dog jumped into my lap and licked my…

I was determined to make Christmas perfect. Our home, an old stucco farmhouse, looked like something out of a magazine—from the red-ribboned wreath on the front door to the row of hand-knit stockings hanging from the mantel and my best china on the table ready for a feast. I took a deep breath. Please, Lord, let this Christmas be everything it’s supposed to be, I begged. But could it, now that my husband and I had separated? Would Christmas ever be the same for me and my kids? The kids were upstairs working on last-minute secret projects and changing for church. I checked the ham in the oven and then washed my hands in the sink. The muscles in my neck and shoulders felt tight and achy. I was so…

’Tis the season to count our blessings—including our pets that provide companionship and improve our quality of life. Over the years I’ve had many different pets, including dogs, cats, rabbits, guinea pigs, gerbils, goldfish, turtles and a hermit crab. I’ve learned something wonderful from each one. We currently share our home with two golden retrievers—Ernest, 13, and Petey, 4. When it comes to reasons to be grateful, they are surely near the top of my list. Here’s why: 1 They’re the best welcoming committee. I love coming home to someone who’s so happy to see me. We have a large window in our front door, and from the moment my dogs hear my footsteps on the porch, they are waiting there, jumping and wagging their tails like it’s the best…