(Tatum’s Story of the day!!)
Mara woke early, the soft murmur of the city’s usual sounds blending with the chirping of birds outside her window. As the first light of dawn slipped through the curtains, she stretched and took a deep breath, ready to face another day. To the untrained eye, she was just a regular person. But to the world’s animals, Mara was someone special—someone they could talk to.
Her gift wasn’t something she’d ever asked for. It came suddenly, when she was fifteen, and over the years, it had become both a blessing and a burden. Mara could hear the thoughts of animals, not in words, but in a deep, intuitive sense—an unspoken language of feelings, intentions, and vivid images. With practice, she had learned to interpret it, and now, it was a part of her, as natural as breathing.
She pulled on her jacket and stepped outside. The first to greet her was a small squirrel perched on the balcony railing, its bright eyes glinting in the morning light.
Good morning, Mara! the squirrel’s voice echoed in her mind, high-pitched and filled with curiosity. The sun is so warm today. I think I’ll go play in the park later. Have you seen any good acorns lately?
Mara smiled, nodding as she walked past. No acorns yet, but I’ll keep an eye out for you. Have fun in the park!
The squirrel scampered off, its thoughts trailing behind like a faint, excited buzz. Mara loved these little exchanges. They reminded her that the world wasn’t just made up of people and their busy lives. There were stories unfolding everywhere, in every corner of the world.
As she continued her walk through the neighborhood, she could feel the presence of others. A cat resting lazily on a porch looked up as she passed, stretching with a languid grace.
Ah, Mara. Always in a hurry, I see. The cat’s voice was smooth, filled with a gentle mockery. You humans, always rushing. Slow down. Feel the sun on your fur. You have much to learn from us.
Mara chuckled, her pace slowing for a moment. Maybe you’re right, Willow. But I’ve got work to do today. We’ll talk soon.
Hmm, yes, of course. But you’re missing the point. Willow yawned dramatically, turning away. When you’re older, you’ll see. It’s all about the nap.
As Mara walked through the park, the world seemed more alive than ever. A group of pigeons fluttered down in front of her, and she could sense their collective awareness—simple but content.
We’ve been here longer than you, human, one of them thought, puffing out its chest in what could only be described as a very pigeon-like sense of pride. We know this place. You’re always just passing through. But we stay. We are the silent witnesses to everything.
Mara stopped for a moment, taking a seat on a nearby bench. It was true, the pigeons had seen so much—decades, perhaps centuries—of human life in the park. Their patience was infinite, their perspective humbling. They weren’t interested in making grand statements; they simply observed.
As she sat there, a rustling noise came from the bushes behind her. A small rabbit, its fur a mixture of gray and white, hopped into view. She didn’t need to hear its thoughts to understand its anxious energy. It was nervous, darting glances left and right.
Please… I’m just trying to find some peace. Is it safe here?
Mara turned to the rabbit, her tone gentle. It’s safe here. No one will hurt you.
The rabbit blinked, then relaxed slightly. Thank you… the world is so loud sometimes. So many predators… so many dangers. It’s hard to trust.
Mara’s heart softened. She could feel the rabbit’s fear, its vulnerability. She knew that feeling all too well, the constant awareness of threats that lurked just out of sight. It was something animals understood deeply, in a way humans often didn’t.
After a few moments, the rabbit hopped away, its cautious steps eventually disappearing into the underbrush. Mara stood up and continued her walk, but the rabbit’s words stayed with her, echoing in her mind.
At work, Mara’s interactions with animals continued, though more subtly. She was a veterinarian’s assistant, and throughout the day, she cared for the various animals brought in for treatment. There was the old terrier, who couldn’t see well but had an uncanny knack for finding the most comfortable spot in the room. She could feel his warmth, his joy at simply being around people. His thoughts were gentle, like the quiet murmur of a stream.
Is this a good spot? I like this spot. The sun comes through the window here. It’s nice.
Then there was the anxious cat, Mr. Whiskers, who hated being at the clinic. His fear filled the room like a storm cloud, the air thick with his unease. What are they going to do to me? I don’t trust them. I don’t trust anyone. Why are they so big?
Mara stayed calm, reassuring him with her presence. It’s okay, Mr. Whiskers. You’re safe here. Just a little check-up, and you’ll be back home soon.
By the end of the day, Mara’s mind was full of the voices she had heard—each one a thread in the vast, interconnected tapestry of life. She’d spoken with dogs, birds, rabbits, and even a squirrel who had come to say goodbye before heading off on its migration. Each conversation had been different, but they all left her with the same quiet sense of awe.
As she walked home, her thoughts were a mix of the animal world and her own. She felt the weight of her gift, the privilege of hearing what so many others could not. But it was also a reminder of something that humans often forgot: that the world was not just made up of human voices and human concerns. There were lives unfolding in every corner, filled with meaning and depth, and sometimes, the animals had the wisest things to say.
Mara stopped for a moment to gaze up at the sky, the last light of the day painting the clouds in soft oranges and pinks. She closed her eyes and smiled, her heart full. The world was noisy, yes—but in the quiet spaces, the ones where humans weren’t listening, there was a whole universe of stories waiting to be heard.
