That's right. The non-human being I love the most is my beloved kitty, and mainly because she needs me. It's good to feel needed. And as far as I know she's the only being who does. And because I love her, she trusts me. She may not love me the way a human or a dog might, but her need and trust are enough for me.
I don't have a "best" friend. I don't like to put my friendships in a hierarchy, nor measure my affection for people in terms of more or less, deeply or not-so-much. Different friends and family members offer me different things in our relationship with each other. I seek out their companionship when I need whatever it is they offer me best. It could be good conversation, a shoulder to cry on, someone who listens, or someone to talk and just keep me company when I want to be quiet and still, but not alone. As long as it's sincere, any kind or degree of love is good. Some friends I see often, others rarely. But I don't consider one a "better" friend than another, and I am blessed with more than a few.
I once saw an episode of one of those wonderful BBC television series set in the Scottish Highlands, where two friends discussed the nature of love and companionship. One of the characters, who happened to have second sight, spoke about how some people spread their love around more or less evenly, rather than showering it on select individuals. I remember thinking I was one of those people. The same character also went on to say that some people have their share of misfortune loaded on them in one or two devastating blows during their lives, while others have hardship or mishap sprinkled pretty much consistently throughout their lifetime. I knew I was one of the latter people, which is also why I prefer to love the same way. It's easier on the soul. And for that I'm grateful as well. Deeper, fiercer attachments open up a person to deeper pain and loss. So when I answered that my little Lulu was my greatest fuzzy love, I knew I truly am a spinster. So mote it be.
- G.P.
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