Yet another part of me had to be persuaded. These pronouncements ran against my own instincts. I decided that I must be wrong, then. But somewhere along the way I thought again.
When I listen to the birds outside I can't believe the sounds are all some kind of mating or newscast game. When I watch the way my cats respond to me, the way they follow me into my bedroom and leap on the bed so they can be close to me, I know it isn't simply because I feed them. It isn't even necessarily because I pet them. I won't go so far as to impose a human-like emotion on another animal but I don't believe that whatever feelings animals have are in any way inferior to ours. And memories. There is a lot to suggest that many animals have histories in their families, that they learn of the past from others. Each generation does not start out a blank slate, impregnated with nothing but instinct.
I have come to trust my own instincts.
