Kansas Snapshots by Gloria Freeland - October 11, 2024

"Doing the right thing"

"I wonder if I'm doing the right thing."

What parent hasn't uttered that phrase at some time, even if only to themselves?

"Is it OK for my child to go on a date?"
"Should I let her use the car to drive to school?"
"How much time on the phone is too much time?"

The list of questions is long.

Then there are the decisions that never rise to the level of a conscious choice. I have written about how neat I thought it was to decorate daughter Mariya's nursery with circus animals and clowns. I didn't know until years later that she was - and is - one of those people who finds clowns creepy.

Grandparents face the same situation. One Easter, mom and dad arrived with a frilly dress for 5-year-old Mariya to wear to church with them. Mariya didn't - and still doesn't - like frilly things. While I contemplated how to navigate the situation, husband Art took Mariya aside and told her he would give her a dollar if she wore the dress and not tell my folks. Negotiations saved the day, but it was a close call!

Often choices don't bear fruit until years later - with no certainty whether it will be a sweet or sour harvest. For every child who is glad their parents made them do something they didn't want to do or kept them from making what later is seen as a bad decision, there is another who may carry some resentment over those same choices throughout his or her life.

As a teacher, it was my responsibility to decide what to impart to my students. I could teach what I was taught, but the world my students grew up in was not the same one I did. Art has a story from his years as a professor about a fellow who applied for a position. Asked what he thought was the single-most important item for students to learn, the candidate chose a topic that hadn't been important for 20 years. Art said he knew the interview was over at that point.

When I was young, doctors routinely didn't tell patients if they had terminal health conditions. The rationale was that the emotional impact of the news would be so great that the patient's remaining time would be wasted. Today, we see this approach as not just paternalistic, but criminal. It doesn't allow patients to make their own end-of-life decisions.

"Kill the Indian and save the man" was a phrase associated with taking Native American children away from their parents and sending them to boarding schools. The reasoning was that schools such as Haskell in Lawrence, Kansas or Kaw Mission in Council Grove, Kansas would prepare them for the white-man's world, which was quickly becoming the predominant culture. Usually done with good intentions, no one considered what the loss of identity to such children would mean later in life and even to subsequent generations.

This trip of reflection was initiated not by some revelation from one of our daughters, but by our cat! Minnie began life as one of the many feral felines that arrive daily on our deck, hoping for a handout. Then, one day we found her on our front steps having trouble breathing. Something had bitten her neck. Instinctively, I wanted to help her, but Art insisted I should first consider whether to tamper with nature. But unlike the other cats who had always focused on whatever food I put out, she ignored the food and looked instead for my attention, rubbing against my legs and almost begging me to pet her. Art's prompting led me to not only take her to the vet, but to adopt her.

I think it was the right decision. Minnie responds to me almost as if she were a dog rather than a cat. She usually comes at my call, is always looking for an opportunity to jump on my lap, and purrs so loudly when I pet her that Art can hear her across the room.

Yet whenever her old gang appear on the deck, she watches them closely through the glass door. I know an average outdoor cat lives only a small fraction of the time that an indoor cat does. I'm unsure whether any of today's deck cats are even of Minnie's generation. Still, the indoor cat's life is quite different from that of her pals. In my human mind, I think Minnie's life is quite superior, with good food, clean water, security, and comfortable temperatures.

But does she see it that way?

A recent BBC radio program underlined this question. The program was broadcast from Indonesia, where, to quote from the dolphinproject.com website, the "Umah Lumba Rehabilitation, Release and Retirement Center � [is] the world's first and only permanent dolphin rehabilitation, release and retirement facility for formerly captive dolphins." Near the program's end, one of the workers commented that while they hate to see them leave, they won't be coming back, as "these are wild animals, not pets."

Art's cousin Jeff and wife Lorraine are real animal lovers. They have spent significant amounts of money and time caring for injured and ill cats and dogs, treating them as the children they never had. Some time ago, they adopted a feral cat that had been trapped and was almost certainly slated to be put down. After months of domestication efforts, Clarice escaped and attempts to recapture her have so far produced little more than images on a trail camera. As one can imagine, they are quite concerned about her future.

Yet when friend Courtney, whose family has cats, asked for an update, her response on hearing the news was, "I guess she's happier where she is now."

When we make decisions for another being, whether it be a human or an animal, it's hard to see it from other perspectives. About all we can do is hope to be lucky.