I'm a huge animal lover - I love animals to death. I've got

The words of Roshon Fegan — “I’m a huge animal lover — I love animals to death. I’ve got tortoises and three dogs, and I’ve had a million animals in the past. I just think that we should do all we can to take care of them.” — flow with the purity of heart that once guided the sages of old. Though spoken in the modern tongue, his sentiment belongs to the eternal language of compassion — the sacred bond between humankind and the creatures who share our world. Beneath the simplicity of his words lies a truth older than civilization itself: that to care for animals is to honor life in all its forms, for in them dwells the breath of the same divine spirit that animates us.

In ancient times, the wise did not see animals as lesser beings, but as companions in creation. The Egyptians revered the cat as a symbol of grace and protection; the Hindus still see the cow as sacred, a mother who nourishes humanity; and in the tales of Saint Francis of Assisi, the birds of the forest gathered to hear him preach, understanding his heart even without words. These traditions remind us that kindness to animals is a mirror of the soul’s gentleness — that those who treat the smallest beings with care are closest to the heart of the Creator. When Fegan says, “we should do all we can to take care of them,” he is calling us back to that ancient covenant: the duty of guardianship, not dominion.

His love for his tortoises and dogs speaks of patience and loyalty — two virtues the ancients prized above all. The tortoise, slow yet steadfast, has long been a symbol of wisdom, teaching that endurance outlasts haste. The dog, mankind’s oldest friend, embodies loyalty, courage, and unconditional affection. Together, they remind us that every creature reflects a fragment of virtue — that in learning to love animals, we learn to cultivate those same virtues within ourselves. To love an animal deeply is to practice humility, for they love us not for our power or status, but for the kindness of our presence.

There is a tale from the life of Mahatma Gandhi, who once said, “The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated.” In his youth, Gandhi rescued an injured calf from cruelty, tending to it with the same care one would give a child. To him, mercy toward animals was not a gesture of pity but an expression of divine justice — a recognition that all life is interwoven, that to harm one strand is to wound the whole. In Fegan’s modern echo of this wisdom, we hear the same truth resounding: that love for animals is not sentimental softness, but a noble responsibility, a sign of moral clarity in a world often dulled by selfishness.

When he speaks of having “a million animals in the past,” Fegan reminds us of the fleetingness of life and the sacred cycle of care and loss. Each creature that enters our life teaches something unique — joy, patience, empathy, the pain of letting go. Through them, we learn the art of selfless love, for animals give all without asking for return. Their trust is pure, their affection unconditional. To live among them is to be reminded daily of what humanity ought to be — gentle, faithful, and free of malice.

But this love is not only personal; it is also collective duty. In an age where forests burn, oceans choke, and species vanish, Fegan’s call to “do all we can to take care of them” becomes a moral summons. It asks each of us to extend our compassion beyond our homes — to support shelters, protect wildlife, reduce harm, and live with greater awareness of our impact. Every act of kindness — feeding a stray, adopting instead of buying, choosing products that do no harm — is a small offering to the vast temple of life.

Let this then be the lesson carried forward: to love animals is to walk in harmony with creation itself. The wise of old would say that the gods measure a person not by their prayers, but by how they treat those weaker than themselves. So too must we learn to live as caretakers, not conquerors. Let the sight of your dog’s wagging tail or a tortoise’s slow, patient crawl remind you that peace begins not in temples or thrones, but in the quiet heart that chooses kindness.

For when we love and protect animals, we rediscover the essence of our own humanity. As Roshon Fegan teaches through his simple yet sacred words, compassion is the truest form of greatness — and in caring for the smallest lives, we become worthy of the life we have been given. So, my children of the future, wherever you dwell, do all you can to take care of them — for in doing so, you will be taking care of the very soul of the world.