Taking Care of Yourself: Uneven Shades

Happy Thursday, Positive Animal Caregivers! ♡🐾

This week moved quickly for me — an extra shift at the doggy daycare, and packing to travel for the Humane Canada Summit for Animals seemed to compress the days.

How was your week? Did you find a moment, even briefly, to step away from it?

For the next few minutes, you can. This time is yours — not the animals’, not the clients’. Just yours.

Animal caregiving has a way of compressing everything — the good moments, the hard ones — into the same day. Before moving on, let’s pause and check in —

Add a note if you want (I read them all)

These days, my life unfolds around my shifts at the doggy daycare and the animal shelter. It often reads like a time-stamped task list. At the doggy daycare, the morning alarm goes off no later than seven, when I wake our boarding guests for their first potty break. Field time starts at half past ten, while nap time begins at two. At the shelter, the afternoon shift starts at half past one, giving me precisely two hours to feed, walk, and calm. The routine repeats each time I enter, so the animals aren’t thrown off by change.

I’ve come to embrace the mundane: a monotonous day is one that passes without incident. Still, small enigmas keep me on my toes. Like the time Casper, who is on a meat-based diet, somehow burped out something distinctly fishy. Or when Gummy, who dislikes just about everyone, suddenly offered kisses. With a well-established schedule, I continue through my tasks on cruise control, even as my mind drifts to these unexplained moments.

Routine, it turns out, looks different depending on where you are.

At the doggy daycare, meal times (7:30 a.m., noon, and 5 p.m.) are a predictable kind of chaos. Dogs are admitted one by one into the kitchen, where their meals are served. They gobble up their kibble quickly — like a storm sweeping through an open field — then look up, locking eyes with the food-dispensing human, as if wondering how soon the next serving might arrive. Outside, the others bark, each one convinced they should be next, or perhaps plotting to embezzle someone else’s portion.

Things shift when I step into the cat shelter. Cats let their food sit. They prefer to eat when humans are not around. Like the French, they break each meal into phases, incorporate appetizers and palate cleansers, usually stretching it into a long, unhurried, multi-hour affair. I read in a study published this past week that this behavior may stem from boredom — they tire of the food’s smell. It’s hard to imagine a dog ever reaching that point, given that most meals disappear in seconds.

If the differences between species weren’t enough, caregivers create their own rituals. At the Humane Society of Broward County, staff learned to tuck in a dog named Missy each night before bed. The dogs I care for overnight don’t receive quite that level of service, but I still make my rounds, saying good night to each of them before turning in.

Animal caregiving is built on routine. The same feeding times, the same walks, the same small rituals repeated day after day. And yet, things shift anyway. Here in Toronto, the snow has begun to recede, giving way unevenly to the grass beneath. Not all at once, but in patches—a stretch of green here, a stubborn layer of white there.

From a distance, it looks uniform. Up close, it rarely is.

(p.s.: if you are a talent like me — someone willing to inhale a dog’s breath and accept their wet tongues on the face — a dog food company is apparently paying $1,000 per hour for your service. The qualifications: “thick skin, a soft heart, and a face that dogs instinctively want to lick.”)

That’s how many small meals a cat may choose to eat in a day when given the option.

Add a note if you want (I read them all)

Mark your calendars for these upcoming opportunities to connect with others:

Here are the ways to recharge this week. Pick ONE small thing that makes you smile. You’ve earned it. 

Listen: “Here Comes the Sun,” a timely classic that I am listening to as Toronto suffers through a week of rain. 

Watch: The highlights from Artemis II’s mission as compiled by NASA. “You have this oasis, this beautiful place that we get to exist together,” the astronauts told us. 

Write: A few lines in your gratitude journal. This week’s prompt: Unevenness. 

Appreciate: A beautiful piece of art. This week’s artwork: Stephen Shore’s photograph of Kalispell, Montana, taken in 1974. You might find yourself wondering what that same intersection looks like today. 

Try: Sketching your most favorite pet. Even “rubbish” pet portraits are cute.

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Thanks for spending part of your day with me and the rest of the Positive Animal Caregivers Club. Take care of yourself this week. Remember - even superheroes need naps. 

– Philip