Sharing the sorrow of fellow creatures

The animals can’t tell us what hurts.
| Photo Credit: Getty Images

Walking into a veterinary hospital, I felt the weight of a different kind of sadness. It’s not just a place for healing; it’s a gathering of silent struggles, of creatures unable to explain what they feel, and somehow, that makes it so much heavier.

I was there with my little goat kid, Suzy, the last-born of her siblings. She is small and a bit fragile, and I had come hoping to find some way to help her. But the moment I entered, the stillness of so many animals in pain settled on me, deep and unavoidable.

In the corner lay a goat, heavy with pregnancy but unable to give birth, with loud cries that pierced the silence of the hospital. The doctor said her uterus was tangled. She was moved to be operated on. I murmured a little prayer for her.

A sick cat lay curled up in the arms of a girl who had wrapped it in a towel, silent as if accepting whatever came next, while a hen sat quietly in another room after the injection the doctor had given her. A German Shepherd, apparently fine, stood by his owner, watchful. My Suzy, unable to keep her head straight, let out little cries. None of them could speak or tell us where it hurt.

United by grief

There is a quiet understanding that flows among the people there. We may all be strangers, but in those moments, we are bound by the weight of watching the animals we care for struggle. People glance at each other, nodding in silent sympathy. Between the calls and soft murmurs, small conversations start — a simple “What happened to yours?” or “Is the goat feeling better?” Each answer carries its own bit of pain or hope.

One woman spoke quietly about her goat’s labour complications, and I shared Suzy’s condition, about her being the last-born, a little weak. Somehow, sharing these words is a kind of comfort, an invisible hand on the shoulder.

I saw people finding solace in these small exchanges, a shared experience of waiting, of helplessness, of hope.

As I left, holding Suzy close, I felt like I was carrying the sadness of every life there. It’s hard to walk out of a veterinary hospital without feeling sorrowful — knowing the animals can’t tell us what hurts, knowing they simply wait in silence, as if hoping someone will understand.

teenmariageorge@gmail.com