Back in the late '80s, when I was being treated for metastatic cancer, I realized that the greatest models for me in facing what I thought was the end of my life were animals, not people. Especially important to me back then were memories of my old dog, Keesha, who had died of a similar cancer---very peacefully and with great dignity---ten years previous to my own diagnosis. I decided it would be of great help to me to read other accounts of animals as profound teachers and healers as I searched for inspiration in my very terrifying journey. Surprisingly, there were no such books. I thought at the time, "This is crazy. There must be more on the bookshelves besides dog training books and picture books of pretty cats!" Alas, such was not the case. So, in 1996, nearly a decade after my original cancer diagnosis, I published "Animals as Teachers and Healers." It became a NYT bestseller and paved the way for a new kind of animal book---one that celebrated and explored the deep relationships we humans have with animals both domestic and wild. Now the bookstores are full of such books, and animals and nature are once again recognized for their deep contribution to a healthy human life. I kept healthy, and I kept writing. Then followed lecturing and teaching about the mystery and wonder of the human-animal bond. It has been a wonderful ride and far, far longer than any of my doctors had predicted! Oprah once told me that I was a "very unusual woman." She meant it in a good way, of course, but even so, I don't think I am unusual at all. I live in a tiny, old mill house, five blocks from downtown. My animal companions are not the least unusual---a dog, a cat, two ducks, and a hive or two of bees. The creatures who visit my yard are not unusual either. Just your typical assortment of coons and possums, stray cats and squirrels. The wonder and the awe I have for the tiny moments with these ordinary creatures is a feeling shared by many and a sensibility available to anyone who learns where to look and how to see. The other-than-human Creation calls to each of us, ceaselessly. She has much to teach us, and many medicines to heal our wounded, often lonely souls. A dog's wet nose on your cheek, the rough scrape of a kitten's tongue. A bird's sweet call at sunset. All medicine. All good medicine.