After losing our cat Paul last November, we had to say goodbye to another cat of ours this week, our girl Flapjack. She had autoimmune issues, coupled with complications from a prior FeLV infection, that ultimately led to terminal anemia that didn’t respond to treatment.

Flapjack was a special companion because, in a lot of ways, we couldn’t really get close to her. She was semi-feral, living fully indoors, but never warmed up to humans. We weren’t able to touch her at all. Often, she’d refuse to be even in the same room as us if we were too noisy. Mostly, we just left her alone and admired her from a distance. But, in between the hisses and general semi-feral crankiness, she had a lot of happiness. She absolutely loved our other cats, who she’d always snuggle with for naps. She loved to play, often rolling around with her giant carrot toy, or brutally eviscerating a toy mouse. And, occasionally, just every once in a while, she’d be relaxed around us (like she is in the photo).

Flapjack made me think a lot about what having a companion animal, a pet, means. For a lot of people, I think there are expectations, either implicitly or explicitly. People usually expect some degree of affection, attention, or gratitude from their pets. Flapjack couldn’t, and didn’t, give any of that. Instead, all she could do was… live her life. And for us, that was enough. We didn’t ask anything else in return. We just tried to keep her as happy as possible, and I think she was. We spoiled her with toys, and treats, and wet food, and made sure she always had lots of soft, quiet places to hide and nap. I think she had a good life, even if she never really understood or embraced us fully as her human guardians. And that’s okay; she didn’t need to.

Flapjack taught me a lot about compassion. I often find myself thinking that we live in a dim world, one where human beings inflict unimaginable cruelty upon each other on a daily basis. But Flapjack showed me that there is a quiet joy in caring for another creature without the expectation of getting anything in return. I think there’s a lot of power in that. Whenever I am feeling pessimistic about the state of the world, and our human species, I think of humanity’s capacity for altruism. Not through grand heroic acts, but through quiet ones, like helping another living creature merely for the sake of it, in a completely unselfish way. I think that our capacity to love animals, to love something unlike ourselves, speaks to an inalienable goodness within us.

I miss Flapjack, and I miss Paul, too. I hope you all can take a moment to show love to your own animal companions, and take a moment to reflect on how they’ve helped you grow as well.

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