How many animals? I don’t think I’ve ever quite figured that out, nor, I suspect, will I really. Maria and I talk about it a lot.

A farm is a dangerous thing for animals lovers, because you can always justify more. We have 70 acres and four barns, and four fenced in pasture areas. We could easily handle some horses, goats, sheep and a few cows. Maybe even a pig or two and a bunch of chickens.

I’ve learned that this is a serious psychological issue for me, and I believe that if you don’t take care of the stuff inside of your head, there is no shortage of animals in which to hide and dump your stuff, as they are helpless and dependent and can’t leave or tell us to leave them alone, as healthy  kids learn to do. It is easy to exploit animals to feel good about ourselves, fill the emotional holes in our lives, or hide from our problems.

I have done all of the above. I got drunk on animals when I came to the farm. Fodder for my writing, drama for my life, a distraction from my problems, a moat to keep the world away. At the worst, I had four donkeys, two steers, a dairy cow, three goats, two barn cats and four, sometimes five, dogs. I took photos of them, wrote about them on my blog and in my books, and on book tours people still ask me about every single one of them and are often horrified to learn that they were sold, given away or sent to slaughter.  Animals often pay for human mistakes. I don’t make excuses or apologies, really, as I did the best I could with what I knew, but I have learned from it, and Maria has helped me learn more from it. She loves animals with a great and open heart and depth and her connection to them is a lesson and an inspiration to me.

Together I think we have come a healthy place and a loving place. We have three donkeys (Simon was not anticipated), four dogs, three chickens and two barn cats. We manage these comfortably. The dogs are well trained and easy to be around, and the house is big and can absorb them. We have woods and fenced in areas. Donkeys are little trouble and amuse themselves most of the day, and the chickens are no work really, and greatly add to the atmosphere of the place. Twice a day we check on them, feed and water them, visit with them. The rest of the day is ours to do our work. We love them and often spoil them, but there are not so many that we can’t get to know them or care for them. And they are all healthy and relatively inexpensive. They enrich our loves, and I love sharing the care for them with someone who loves them so deeply.

I have learned to separate my own emotional life from theirs. They are not children, my best friends, my spiritual advisers, my social life, or even all of my work. They do not replace people for me, nor do I confuse them with people. I try not to exploit them to make me feel superior, self-righteous, or to use them to dislike, attack or harm people. I have no problem trusting and loving people who do not love or keep animals, or feel in any way superior to them because I have animals. It’s a choice, not a sacrament.

How many animals?  For me, as many as you can know and love. Not so many that there is not room to build a life with meaningful work and human connection.