Living in a Silent World: How Animals Changed My Life
For most of my life, people misunderstood me. They thought I was stuck-up, rude or snotty.
For a long time, I didn’t realize those assumptions had anything to do with my hearing loss.
I came into this world very quietly on May 20th, the same day my maternal grandmother was born. Thus making me the first grandchild in the family. What a gift to her!
My cat Keoke
I spent the first few years of my life living in a muted world, unaware this would play a huge role in the work I chose to pursue as an adult.
When I was in nursery school, my teacher pulled my parents aside. She wasn’t concerned because I caused trouble - I didn’t - but because I didn’t respond to her directions like the other children did. One day, she tested her theory that I was hard of hearing by banging two pots together over my head. All the kids in the room jumped. I didn’t flinch.
My family adopted a Burmese cat we named Samantha a few years after Keoke passed away.
This led to a series of doctor visits and testing. It was confirmed that I had a hearing loss. It wasn’t genetic; no one else in my family was hard of hearing. The doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with my ears, so it was concluded that I had nerve deafness - some of the nerves in my ears had never full developed. Some pitches I can’t hear at all, some only faintly.
I missed a lot of kindergarten because of these appointments and tests. But one day still stands out. It was Valentine’s Day and I missed the first few hours of school. I had worked hard on my Valentine’s to share with my classmates. But I was worried that I wouldn’t get any - after missing so many days, I was sure no one would know who I was and I’d go home with an empty box. To my joy, my box was full. It was a little thing, but it meant a lot to me.
Me with my cat Brutus the day I graduated from college.
Growing up, I had a Siamese cat named Keoke. We were born the same year, and she became my first true friend. At the end of the school day, I looked forward to coming home to play with her. She slept with me at night, and followed me everywhere. She accepted me no matter how sad, insecure or happy I felt.
At first, I didn’t realize my hearing loss made me different. As I got older and the opinions of my peers mattered to me more, I wanted nothing but to fit in. Being a special needs child, meant I spent part of my school day with specialists like speech therapists. While my classmates were having downtime, I was working one-on-one to learn things like pronouncing words I could not hear and reading lips.
Walking one of the dogs I cared for when I opened my pet sitting business.
As my awareness of being unique grew, I struggled with feeling ok about myself. Coming home to my cat Keoke was often the highlight of my day. She hung out with me, curled up with me and purred, and made me feel perfectly “normal”. She got me through some very rough times growing up.
Animals have always felt safer for me. With them, I never felt judged or ostracized. They didn’t know I was different, and they accepted me exactly as I was. They became my closest friends, my confidantes, my constant. With them, I finally felt like I belonged - and that connection has shaped both the life I’ve built and the work I do with pets today.
Comforting a pet sitting client as he fought a tough battle with cancer. Many of my clients became a big part of my personal life too.
Because of this, I always knew I wanted to work with animals. I didn’t know in what capacity, but I never doubted it was what I was meant to do. In college, I earned a degree in animal behavior and eventually started a pet sitting business, spending my days caring for and connecting with animals who quickly became part of my heart.
I began photographing them simply so I wouldn’t forget them - the ones who moved away, the ones who passed on, the ones who left their mark on my life. Over time, those photographs became something more. They became a way to honor the bond I shared with them, and ultimately led me to the work I do today as a pet photographer.