To inspire greater empathy toward animals

 Handsome One - Thoroughbred Horse - age 33. Photo by Isa Leshko.

Today my heart is swollen with love and sadness, looking at the Elderly Animals project by photographer Isa Leshko. This extensive photo essay arose as a response to her mother's Alzheimer's disease and became an exploration of her thoughts and fears about aging and death. Her subject: the elderly animals she encounters in her visits to farms and sanctuaries across the country.

Finn Sheep - both age 12. Photo by Isa Leshko.

Leshko writes, in her artists'  statement: "I also want my images to inspire greater empathy toward animals, particularly farm animals. It is rare to see a farm animal that has actually lived its natural life span, given that most of these animals experience brutality and death early in their lives. I want to challenge people's assumptions about these animals and inspire reforms to the treatment of farm animals."

Capuchin Monkey - age 30+. Photo by Isa Leshko.

This project touches me deeply and I just had to share it with you. I discovered it at NPR's blog, The Picture Show.

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Nola

Before closing, and on the subject of an animal who did not live nearly long enough, please indulge me as I pay homage to our sweet Nola. She has been missing for a couple of weeks now, so hope is rather faint.

Nola was probably the most amazing and interesting cat I've ever known. She was noticeably smart - as in casual visitors to the house would remark on how smart she was. She was incredibly inquisitive and explored absolutely everything that ever appeared in her path

Nola was also an extremely loving cat. She won over quite a few people who had no interest in cats before meeting her. She loved to be held, cradled in my arms on her back, like a little baby. She was a tiny thing and still looked somewhat like an older kitten rather than the four-year-old cat that she was.

Nola takes a nap.

Nola was adopted from a shelter, by Adeline and her then-boyfriend, Garrett. She was so sickly that they immediately took her to a vet who told them they had saved her life. One more day without treatment and she likely would have been dead. Adeline and Garrett kept Nola in the college dorm (against the rules) during the spring, where she received lots of love and attention. It's no wonder she was such a sociable cat! She came home with Adeline that summer and though I started out saying "Not another cat! She is YOUR CAT! Do not leave her here with me!" I ended up saying "Oh, no! You can't take Nola. This is her home now. She LOVES us and we are madly in love with her."

When Adeline returned to school in the fall, Nola really became my cat. Whatever room I was in, she was there, too. She even went on occasional walks with me, trotting along like no cat I've ever seen. She was my buddy. We had a lovely nightly ritual. When it was time to go to bed I would carry her in my arms as I wandered about the house, turning off lights and checking doors. Then we would get in bed where she would invariably end up deserting me for the comfort of sleeping in the crook made by Doug's slightly bent knees. It was her sleeping place.

Nola "knocking" at the door.

In recent weeks, Nola's place as Absolute Princess of the House was usurped by the arrival of our adorable new kitties, Charlie and Puddle. Nola was clearly upset, but that was to be expected. It seemed to us, after a difficult week or so, things were getting much better. I was especially heartened when all three began sleeping on the bed together. It was kind of amusing. Nola would spend the night with the kitties - and she slept with me rather than near Doug's knees, no doubt as a means of letting the kitties know just exactly who "owned" me. In the morning, she would wake up and be fine for a while  but eventually she would "rediscover" the interlopers, give them a loud hiss and leap away.

It was disturbing to see Nola feeling upset and it is all the more troubling now, since it coincides with her demise. Our nightly ritual had been interrupted by the presence of the kitties - she was in no mood for it. But I was so pleased that we had recently been doing it again. My last memory is of carrying her about the house in my arms, working our way to the bedroom, but feeling sad because instead of her usual relaxed self, she was looking around to see whether the scary kitties were nearby. That night, Doug let her out of the house in the wee hours and we never saw her again. I hated it when Doug would do that, but he was a pushover for her. She loved to go out exploring and he just couldn't say no to Nola.

So, was she killed by a predator? Hit by a car? Did she get adopted by people who had the good sense not to own other cats? We will probably never know. My theory is that she was exploring one of the many trucks and vans that were in the area at the time, as it was just after the big storm which knocked down so many trees, closed roads and left us without electricity for nearly a week. I think it is quite possible that she was inside a workman's truck when he closed the doors and drove off. By the time he discovered her presence, he had no idea where she had come from. Or maybe when he opened the doors she ran off, to a strange new area.

I cling to the small hope that she may still be alive somewhere .... and maybe she will find her way home. Every time I walk past "her" door, I look to see if she might be there, waiting to be let in. I yearn to hold her in my arms again and when I realize that will probably not happen, my heart breaks.