Manager of the Sacred Office

Case Report: A performance evaluation that summarizes the teachable aspects of organization by Lady Rupert Wibble Wobble.

Lady Rupert Wibble Wobble was responsible for mapping the path and supervising essential management and development of the cartography department of the Sacred Office. Her ability to communicate in the Magisterium, exceeded most limits of what the mind could imagine, of past, present and future. Wibble's skills were best appreciated because she presented a novel perspective. Like other’s with great minds, she presented visions that were accessible because she stood on the shoulders of other giants, other pets who had taught a progression of skills to this humble author.

Being of the mindset that all life is interconnected, my curiosity has always driven me to learn and understand what drives animal behaviour. At one point in my life I pursued Ethology, the study of observable animal behaviour, such as lip curls, eye movements, head bobs and ritualistic action patterns. My interests turned to genetics. Evolutionarily, humans share 98% of their genes with chimps, 80% with cows and 60% with cats, fruit flies and bananas. Recent interests have led to an appreciation that we are more than the genes we inherit, or how we are nurtured. It has taken almost 200 years to discover that Lamarckian transfer of acquired characteristics does occur, through transgenerational epigenetics.

I feel a great attachment to all of life, and especially to animals. After all, I am an animal. Some humans have a heightened level of sensitivity that allows communication not only within species, but with animals, even if they do not share the same spoken language. Communication occurs between birds that bustle in a murmuration or a murder, and among fish who travel in schools. intelligently optimizing social behaviour to provide more advantages than costs. Micro-organisms relate to each other with a form of communication – called quorum sensing - that controls and manipulates biochemical effects and behaviors and control inter- and intra-specific relationships like bioluminescence, virulence, and competence to receive information under natural or controlled conditions. I am inclined to want to be a good host. I seek to encourage collaborative interactions that offer the a competitive advantage to the symbiotic guests in my life that battle the forces that lead to inevitable self-destruction. There is a co-evolution that occurs between humans and pets through minuscule micro-organisms of the epigenome that pull the strings.

As puppet masters, micro-organisms can establish highly convergent, fast, flexible and highly accurate algorithms that encode plasticity in how an organism looks and behaves. Nature designs many organisms to share the same geometry. A cloud or a piece of ginger can look like an animal, and a human can look like and even act like a pet. Many pets can become wonderful teachers companions in a relationship with humans. They are capable of accessing a natural force, transferring information, and applying new skills. Humans and pets understand each other and modify their actions and reactions so they become a complete unit.

Each pet has a unique style of communicating. They accept their companion at face value. Each learns and teaches the other, what they are able and ready to learn. When the student is ready, the teacher appears. Wibble taught not only me, but my family many important lessons. I saw in Wibble, the youthful bright eyes of Cleopatra, a symbol of a concept associated with beauty, protection, well-being and healing.

At age 14, I harassed my mother for a Basset Hound and was gifted with Cleopatra, the perfect pet who reflected my sentiments, four years after my dad had been killed in a tragic car accident. Life had been hard. Cleo was a therapy dog.

I felt like I was mother’s pet, being rewarded for doing my best and being trusted as a responsible adult.Cleo was able to deal with the sadness of life with grace. We gave Cleo what we thought was a good life, before the days of the internet and specially designed foods to enhance pet health. She was offered a menu of finely-chopped turkey, roast beef and gravy with potatoes and vegetables most nights, and a daily walk.

Cleo taught me to deal with the discomfort and consequences of indulging in ignorant, selfish desires that do not consider future costs. I abandoned Cleo after four years, when I left home to go to university. In spite of imposing the responsibility of her care on my mom, both she and Cleo taught me about non-judgmental love. With each visit, my mom greeted me with open arms, and Cleo offered me a massive drool and wagging tail. Poor Cleo met her end because of a weakness of the breed, her stomach literally twisted into a knot. I know the feeling. I still hold the burden of my self-centred ignorance in my gut.

The lessons a pet delivers depends on the student's readiness to learn. My first pets, Smoky and Frisky the cats, were masters of the pest control business. They kept the basement free of the vermin that were keen to cross the stream from the mill across the tracks in our backyard, attached to the brewery at the end of the street.

Smoky would patrol the area, then efficiently stalk, pounce, decapitate and eviscerate intruders. With tail held high, he took pride in a job well-done, and would often offer us the dead rats as a gift. Like many pets, Smoky taught me that a pet likes to know their job, and that their role is essential within the family community.

Frisky taught me about rats. Some rats are curious to see what life is like on the other side of the tracks, even when food is readily available. Not all rats are greedy and selfish; some are explorers. They often form commensal relationships, neither helping or harming humans, but can they can become disgusting pests.

Rats are used in research because they are said to be very much like humans. Rats have metacognition, they can reflect about what they know. Some are capable of emotional contagion, and some seek to reduce distress. Research has shown that female lab rats display a degree of altruistic care, associated with prosocial voluntary acts of kindness and empathy, always choosing to release captive cohorts. Males are not so generous in sharing the benefit of their skills.

As a young child, I found a wounded pigeon, who became my pet. My brothers were told to take me and my pet to a pigeon fancier, who promptly rung my bird’s neck, saying, “This is the kindest action.” At age six, this was not a pleasant experience for me. I remember feeling sad though, somehow, I understood even though I would have preferred to try to nurse the tiny injured creature to health. Many years later, another wounded pigeon came into my life. I placed it within chicken wire confines, with a little wooden house for safety. Despite my efforts, two weeks later, when my patient was nearly healed, a fox came by during the night. The silly bird left its sanctuary and, fluttering about, was promptly devoured.

Weak animals are naturally culled in nature. When I worked at a wildlife sanctuary, any deformed waterfowl had to be killed. I learned of the conviction that soldiers, hunters, vets and doctors must require to accept the need to sometimes end a life.

Keeping or breeding a wild animal in captivity presents challenges. They often imprint of a human, and do not have the opportunity to learn needed survival skills. Many animals, like dancing bears, racing dogs and horses can be offered a second chance with the potential of redemption. Most can successfully adapt, and from all appearances, are at peace with their natural disposition while living out their days within protected sanctuaries that are often available without the skills to otherwise survive.

During my teenage years, a chatter of blue budgies - Bluestar, Bluebelle and Bluebeard - were my teachers. The first, Bluebeard, was able to fly free, sing, and as I was told they could do, mimic speech saying, “ Good morning” and “Mother go to church”.

I was first made love to by a Bluebeard. I still blush recalling this loss of my innocence. It reciprocated a behaviour I elicited. I did not know that playing with his beak could cause such excitement. The bird was very happy to climb on my hand and talk to my thumb, giving it love bites and tugs and pushes then, becoming excited, he rubbed its cloaca on the thenar eminence, or mound of Venus, beneath my thumb. I literally felt the power of a connection.

Sadly, Bluebeard was harassed to death by an ignorant visitor who refused to let him land on one of his flights of fancy. I was away from home, and had never dreamed that I needed to set appropriate rules of engagement with my siblings and guests.

This experience taught me my role was to protect my beloved from the ignorant, who think tormenting and harassing the innocent is fun. Over the succession of budgies that were part of my life, I also learned that males talk more than females. Furthermore, I realized that my fear of their getting hurt while flying could be transferred. The last budgie refused to leave the cage. She mirrored many sentiments I was experiencing. Bluebelle was happiest singing in rounds if someone had the hiccups. She would lay eggs that became impacted, and was very grateful for the trip to the vet, that then evoked a love response and the need for another egg to be removed.

For a short period, Schmendrick the flop-eared rabbit was a part of my life. Rabbits are not particularly intelligent, but trainable. However, after a year of cleaning rabbit scat, I arranged that he go to the local park warren, where he kindled many flop-eared kittens. Rabbits appear to have an emotional memory, and are capable of voice and touch recognition. He often came to greet me when I visited his enclosure.

Years later, when my daughter was visiting home, we commented on how we missed the animal spirit in the house. As if on demand, a sensory-deprived, silly rabbit, Mr. Honeybun, appeared on our porch during a snowstorm. It seems that people often purchase rabbits as pets and then release them into the wild. Honeybun appeared to be short-sighted, deaf and dumb, but he did not lack in trust. His arrival transformed the emotional state of the house. We sheltered the little fellow though we knew, sadly, given the transient nature of both of our lives, he could not stay. Thankfully, we had time to report the situation to an animal adoption agency involved in rabbit rescues. This led to the realization that many humans are committed to helping these innocent, trusting animal souls to continue to exist and spread their essence of bringing happiness.

Early in my university days, I adopted my very portable, whistling guinea pig. Piggin Little was a well-travelled pig who, during the eight years of her life, travelled on flights across the country in my handbag n my shirt, before such carry-ons were permitted. She was the archetypical spirit known to exist in pubs of the same name in which drinking vessels known as pigs, hold the whistle called the Wassail, a cup of hot a spiced ale raised in a hail to good health. Piggin’s whistles were purrs that could communicate her comfort and happiness, or squeaks of annoyance.

Those university years also included Rocky the Raccoon, an orphan found beside his road-killed mother. Rocky came into my life one summer while I worked on an alternative energy project in a forested community. As a kit, he carefully peeled grapes, made happy chirps and expressed cries of anger. Thinking it best to teach him how to kill for food, I filled the stream where red cardinal flowers grew with leopard frogs, which he promptly killed just for the fun of it. Raccoons need no training for how to hunt, and tend to be gluttons when food is available. He was released into the wilderness at the end of the summer. He knew how to find food, but had no intra- specific social skills, but at least he knew the territory and I was hopeful that his instinct would do the rest.

During my early married life, my ex brought Tommy the tarantula into the house. Fed hefty meals of crickets, Tommy moulted a few times. I believe one of his exoskeletons is in a matchbox somewhere in the house. He taught me the nature of a timid, venomous beast. My mother shared stories of when her dad, a fruit and vegetable grocer, imported bananas that often held tarantulas. Tarantula bites are said to provoke the victim, often a woman of lower status, into a fit, plagued by heightened excitability and restlessness that is only relieved after engaging in a frenzied whirling dancing ritual - the Tarantula - and sweating out the venom. Tommy taught me to be a woman of higher status. I calmly was able to witness how well he responded to daily handling and would enjoy his dance up my arm for a stretch, then his return home.

Years later, I captured and cared for Harvey, the baby garter snake who became my pet of necessity before engaging in field research observing Herring and Ring-billed gulls on a remote island where I presaged that I needed not to have such a fear. About 10 inches long, Harvey helped me lose my fear of serpents. I became accustomed to feeling his skin, warmed by the incandescent light; looking into his eyes I began to understand snakes a bit. This was good, because that summer I came foot to face with hundreds of three-to-six-foot scaly, slippery, cold-blooded snakes that climbed the rocks to mate. Literature says male and females fight each other for dominance to mate, but I saw snakes mating in writhing knots. About four weeks later, a teeming sea of small serpents hatched from their eggs, forming a massive wriggling rug to the lake. Many were consumed by the gulls and terns. Thanks to Harvey, I had learned how to gently brush a path to get around the new life without harm to any.

Understanding the serpent also came in handy when I had to care for an eight-foot boa constrictor for a few weeks. The owner had fed it one large live chicken before leaving, and it took almost two weeks to be swallowed whole. The lump moved slowly and dissolved. Although I do not understand why someone would have a boa as a pet. I have resolved that I can appreciate the need to learn what the reptilian brain can understand. I often depend on my reptilian brain to direct me to do what I can, to be in harmony with life.

Back to the birds.

My observations of the Herring gull, a larger, seemingly more intelligent bird than the Ring-billed gull, revealed they are typically only fish eaters. However, on occasion they may eat a chick wandering into their poorly-defined territory. Many species are cannibalistic with their offspring. Hamsters are also known to eat their young when crowded in captivity but I found, in my long-term experiences with my daughter's bachelor hamster, Hammy, his solitary behaviour was quite different. Hammy liked exploring and social contact. He liked to gnaw because his teeth were always growing. I wonder if rodent stem cells will be used in dentistry one day.

Birds taught me that social crowding and territorial defence have consequences. The Herring gull uses complex signalling behaviors to communicate both to each other and chicks. Ring-billed gulls eat garbage, signal less, and have more young. It makes me wonder about the cost/benefit advantages of the seemingly more intelligent, selective eaters with less offspring.

As an aside, many of our feathered friends are also sadly suffering from ongoing pandemics. Avian cholera, West Nile virus, a fungus that attacks cicadas and is transmitted, as well tuberculosis and other infectious diseases have been identified since the 1940s. They are affecting such intelligent birds as Blue Jays, Crows, Grackles, Starlings, House Sparrows, Cardinals, Flickers, Catbirds, Wrens, Robins, Gulls and other bird brains who do not adhere to the social distancing rule. Bees and bats, are similarly falling victim to mysterious illnesses that many communities believe are the result of human exploitation of resources. With hope, more humans will demand and pay the price to balance profit and global responsibility to stop self-destructive behaviours.

I moved between Oklahoma and Texas for a number of years. One summer, when I was 6 months pregnant, writing my thesis, I was asked to care for Stinky the Turkey Vulture, who was hit by a car. Stinky was my two year old ‘s first pet. They were happy to walk and explore together. They were the same size. She would guide him by offering him small treats. Each seemed to recognize how to subservient to the other. They held a cohesiveness and had the potential to signal each other their intentions.

Stinky brought me into reality where I felt like I was part of a Disney cartoon. Before the age of political correctness, Beaky the Buzzard was characterized as a simple minded character with drawled speech, a perpetual silly grin and partially closed eyes. Beaky had to deal with a domineering Italian mother back at the nest. Eventually Beaky became the mentor to the simple minded Concord Condor who only ends sentences with yes , yes, yes or no, no, no. Stinky was the prototype of the vultures in the Jungle book who sing “That’s what friends are for” to Mogli while accidentally attracting the villain. Stinky came to give me a message that I did not want to hear, about how it is easy to live according to a cartoonish model of reality. Stinky soon recovered and unceremoniously flew away.

That summer, my ex brought me an Agave Americana, a century plant in bloom. Within it was a rhinoceros beetle which easily pried open a plastic container and even the lid on a glass container. It's drive to survive earned my respect and, after a few hours of observation, I released it seeing it held no potential as a pet.

The next year, I returned to Texas with a second child and another addition to the family, a Whippet/Lab X pup we named Rupert, thinking the pup a male. Lady Rupert was, in fact, a girl, who wibbled and wobbled and fell down while wagging her tail. As a pup, I let her play with the local Texan semi-wild mutts who taught her how to pee like a male, watch out for rattlesnakes whose bite leaves a hole in the flesh as long as a thigh muscle, and interact in a socially-appropriate manner among dogs. I began to train Lady Rupert Wibble Wobble in the manner of Koehler, a Disney animal trainer (and author of “How to Train A Guard Dog”). I truly discovered man’s best friend. Lady Rupert Wibble Wobble taught me about the profound oneness between master and servant, and helped me transform into who I wanted to be.

Some pets have the capacity to form the reciprocal attachment I define as love. The attachment includes but is not limited to mirroring back conditioned behaviours. It can co-create a change of spirit that evokes a new harmony, as part of the environment. Wibble was a champion frisbee-catcher who earned her Purina dog food for two years. She showed me how to throw the disc and react to subtle signals. She ran, tracing the path of the wind before I threw and was ready to position herself to catch the frisbee in mid-air.

Wibble was the helpful hobgoblin, the house spirit that directed the family to find the pleasure of living in the moment, connected in wholeness of thought and action, that for much of the time held peace and joy. By always greeting me with a wagging tail and an open heart, she encouraged me to offer her a self-perpetuating reward. I wanted to please her as much as she pleased me. She was my protector and would defend me, and I did my best to protect and care for her and prepare her for a world where there were many threats.

My mom came to visit me that summer. I learned to respect the Alligator gar…definitely not a pet. The cost of feeding it is too high. A four-inch alligator gar can, by heat-sensing, impale a child one meter high in the jugular. A seven-foot alligator gar, wending through the rice canals at the estuaries in Texas, tried to snap my baby from the arms of her grandmother. I learned to be prepared for those predatory animals that can sense that of which we are ignorant.

During that summer, I recognized that Wibble could establish a portable office. Her comportment set an indefinite tone felt by anyone entering her domain. I inherited several pets over the 17 years Wibble was alive. Her approach to each pet taught me a lesson. I came to appreciate the pet spirit effuses into a space and with an unspoken message, that speaks to what is hidden within imagination, memory, intuition and reason.

Wibble watched Alpha and Omega, the Bettas, and taught me they were depressed when they were not aggressive. They were given away to two different friends. She ignored Freckles, the Goldfish, who seemed content to swim in an oval fishbowl and seeing the world through what must have been a warped lens.

We adopted Misty, my mom’s Irish Soft-Coated Wheaten Terrier after the death of my step-dad, who had been her master. Wibble calmed her down. After Wibble's death, it was challenging to retrain her. Without Wibble, Misty felt the need to protect everyone she loved and was reactive, fearful and aggressive.

Though we made progress, Misty was approached - on my property - by an acquaintance who unexpectedly came to visit. I had attached Misty, on her leash attached to the front porch when I realized I had forgotten a bag to pick up her poo. In spite of being terrified by dogs, the stranger approached the growling poor dear, and got shallowly-nipped. She went into hysterics and claimed it caused her to lose an early pregnancy. She and her husband insisted that Misty be euthanized. After a dark night of the soul, I agreed that Misty become the sacrificial victim. I was reminded of the lesson that it is necessary to protect a pet from stupid people.

After mom's death, I inherited Daisy, the Calico cat who lived to age 20. Her wee paw-prints still hang in the bathroom, honouring her daily 10-minute ritual of being brushed in the bathroom sink. My mother and Daisy had a lovely relationship, and Daisy trained me. I learned to understand cat. Utilizing her inner knowledge with confidence, she could palpate a sore area accessing a pain, and do so effortlessly, with assurance in her treatment. Daisy taught me to feel the divine or intuitive, seemingly magical nature of sharing a reciprocal connection, as an animal in a community. She brought me into a peaceful rhythm, responding to the energy of the moment. Daisy taught me when and where to place stepping stools as she grew older, and how to make her life more comfortable, always expressing her gratitude and respect for the care.

Cats have 'Coherent Assessment Techniques’. Such intuitive communication was used by Midnight, a psychotic cat we cared for during a short period. Midnight offered us challenges. She was our guard cat. We were told if she had a litter she would calm down. After she delivered her kittens, she brought them, and Wibble onto my daughter’s bed to help her with the kitten care. As the manager of the sacred office, Wibble was involved in the necessary cleaning and discipline of the kittens. My daughter's role was to provide comforting support to them all. Midnight disappeared into the darkness after her kittens were sold.

My last domestic pet, Sibelle, was my elderly neighbour's Golden Retriever, who I walked and trained. Although this utterly delightful breed is smarter than they make out to be, it took us nearly two years to master two-way communication. Sibelle loved to play games and could express a depth of emotion I had never seen in a dog. After the death of her master, she grieved. His son took her to Thailand, where black dogs are deemed more delicious than white dogs. I want to believe her last years were good. She was well-loved.

At present, the only animals with whom I share existence are those in my yard. These friends enjoy the bounties of the fall grapes, nuts, bulbs and spring berries. They let me see who they are as they sing, play, nest and fight in this little corner of paradise. I am happy sharing my space with the Black and Grey Squirrels, Cardinals, Crows, Sparrows and Robins - many of whom have already departed for the winter- the Gryllus integer crickets singing their fall songs, a rabbit, a family of skunks and raccoons, and Robinson Crusoe, the lone chipmunk my brother captured and brought to my backyard. I often question what he was thinking. Granted it is a bountiful territory but, alas, Robinson is stranded, alone, in a region where there are no other chipmunks. Robinson has taught me what it is like to live alone in a strange world. With keen determination, he increases the surface area of his space by making holes, hoarding food, planning escape routes and being prepared for the unknown. He is relatively friendly and appreciates my gestures of kindness.

Each pet I have known has been a teacher who has reflected an aspect of myself that required attention, respect and care. My understanding of the world has changed because of pets. Communication between the pet and master, strikes a chord that holds the implicit agreement that unites the wills and sensibilities of pet and master. One causes an echo in the other, like a tuning fork that causes a second tuning fork to resonate. The tone creates a unique perception that reveals an awareness of the illusions of the senses. Many pets can mirror unnoticed behaviours and reflect the sensitivity of their companions invisible emotions. A cat finds a way sit on your hand with a poised paw as you are typing, or a dog on your feet. They seek to have a connection and resonate with a sacred harmony that respects a social synergy that guides their companions through a deluge of irrational processing of cause and effect.

Some pets and owners can respond to unspoken messages and have attachments that are formed by praise, respect or gratitude through a mutual reward-monitored form of biofeedback. Even if they are calmly sleeping in a corner or demanding attention while greeting the newcomer, their presence resonates with those who enters, and guides them through a deluge of irrational processing of cause and effect. Pets establish a unique communication with recognizable habits that are fixed in the subconscious mind.

Each pet maintains their peculiar role, that naturally unfolds in relationship with man. Some can assume the role of office managers, doing what is needed to work together and be of mutual service to the staff. Wibble let me recognize how pets establish a sanctuary, where wills and sensibilities of those companions in a relationship unite. Wibble has long been gone, but what remains is a respect for the intelligence of her custom-designed role as Manager of the Sacred Office. The essence of Wibble's spirit still remains within my imagination, memory and intuition.

Lady Rupert Wibble Wobble was the Chief Happiness Officer. I was blessed with learning of how happiness can resonate as a harmony through multiple levels. Her sage message, to be present in a moment, warmly greet those who enter their domain and respectfully map out the direction of the wind has been inscribed onto my heart’s memory and helps me regenerate aspects of the well managed sacred office to her fine standards.