When bad things happen in life, you can become bitter.
But one Revelstoke local says we have a choice. Instead, we can choose compassion.
“We can’t lose track of the basics. Compassion. Empathy. That’s what we need more of,” says John Morrison, a local artist and photographer.
Last fall, Morrison was driving along Highway 1 to the Hillcrest Hotel outside Revelstoke.
“I noticed something. It looked like a leaf standing on the centre line.”
But it wasn’t. It was a small, injured squirrel. Blind and its fur had been ripped from its face.
“I can’t let things like that go. So I stopped with all the traffic passing. It was a miracle no one hit it.”
Morrison scoped it up and within a few hours it was no longer shaking. It had calmed down and was purring. He took it to his friend Hans for ointment, then brought it home. Since it was now blind, he thought he’d have to keep it.
“People talk about animals not having any feelings. But when you see a little thing like that. Petrified in the middle of the road. Completely zoned out and shaking. No fur. How could I not stop?”
| Last October, this little creature was stranded on the centre line on Highway 1 near Revelstoke. (Submitted) |
Morrison says there is a lot to the power of touch.
According to studies, touch is one of the first senses to develop and between people it’s a fundamental human experience. It’s a powerful means of communication and one of the first “languages” we learn. It can mean so much.
“Maybe it was just the touch and feel from someone that completely calmed the squirrel down,” says Morrison.
It isn’t the first time that he’s helped a creature in need. Morrison has quite the reputation in Revelstoke for helping animals.
The Christmas before last, a local called him because there was a deer in the ditch with a broken leg. Another time in California he found another deer on the roadside and took it home. He tried taking it to the vet, but after the vet called someone to put the animal down, Morrison packed up the deer and left before they arrived. He looked after it himself until it got better and let it free.
“I saw that deer three years later. It was doing fine. There was even a cat resting on its back.”
Morrison says its really hard for him to understand when a person hits an animal on the highway and doesn’t even stop.
“I can’t understand that. It’s the thought that they’re lying there. Nothing should die alone.”
It’s a choice. You can engage, says Morrison, or you can drive away.
“And I can’t drive away. I can’t do it. Sometimes the animal lives and sometimes they don’t.”
| Morrison has a long career in photography and painting. (Submitted) |
This time, the squirrel didn’t. Morrison stayed up until 4 a.m. caring for it and decided to not take it to bed with him. A decision he would later regret. He made a nice nest in a cat kennel and tucked it in. When he found it in the morning, there “was that familiar coldness and stillness.” It had climbed out from under the covers and was laying on top. It died alone.
Morrison says there are moments in life when we are that squirrel.
“When you feel lonely and everything is coming at you. You understand what it’s like to be there. This little animal with all the traffic going. Everybody oblivious. If you put yourself in its being, in its mind, in its soul. It’s staggering to think that a little creature is in a place with such huge activity going around that they’re simply not noticed.”
“That’s heartbreaking.”
When you’re small, scared and fighting for your life, Morrison says you’d hope someone would stop, notice and help.
It was Morrison’s parents that taught him to be compassionate to animals.
“My dad always said if a person doesn’t have any use for animals, then they’re no damn good. That does seem to be the case.”
Out of all the animal stories, there’s one that sticks out. Many years ago, Morrison and his wife at the time were in California by Lake Tahoe. There was this moose wallowing in mud up to its chest. It had been hit by a car and was dragging its feet behind.
“My wife said it was horrible. And she didn’t want to see it. I can understand that, once you see it you can never un-see it. It’s in your mind forever. But I have to see it. I’ve got to. It keeps me grounded. It keeps me humble.”
Years later, when Morrison finds himself in a situation where a lot of bad things have happened, such as the death of his mother and brother, he puts himself back in that place with the moose because “it gives me strength.”
That moose could be any of us. Morrison says the least we can do is try. Try to help. Try to mend. Try to be there for its final moments.
“When something is broken, sometimes it can be rebuilt. It can be fixed.”
For the people that say they’re only animals or it’s just a squirrel, Morrison says, “But what is that? If you think it’s just a squirrel, where do you draw the line? It’s just a dog. It’s just an old person. It’s just a person that’s sick. It’s just a person that’s mentally not all there.”
Where does it end? As humans, with all our technology and education, Morrison says we’re still lacking.
“To my knowledge, man cannot create an ant. Or a common house fly. So, it’s just a squirrel?”
@pointypeak701
liam.harrap@revelstokereview.com
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