My mother early on taught us to respect all animals, and I mean

In the words of Joanna Lumley: “My mother early on taught us to respect all animals, and I mean all animals – not just cats and dogs but rats and snakes and spiders and fish and wildlife, so I really grew up believing they are just like us and just as deserving of consideration.” This saying resounds like the voice of an elder who whispers the laws of harmony to her children. It speaks of respect, of compassion, and of the unbroken bond between humankind and the countless living forms that share the earth with us. To hear these words is to be reminded that life is not measured by strength or beauty alone, but by the sacred breath that animates all beings.

In ancient times, wisdom was passed not merely in scrolls or temples, but through the very example of mothers and fathers. Here, Lumley’s mother becomes like the philosopher-teachers of old: guiding her child’s spirit toward reverence for creation in its fullness. To love only the gentle cat or the loyal dog is easy, but the higher path demands more—it asks us to look upon the rat, the snake, the spider and see not vermin nor threat, but fellow travelers in the great journey of existence. This teaching shatters the veil of fear and prejudice, urging us toward a vision where no creature is beneath consideration.

Consider the story of Saint Francis of Assisi, who long ago walked among the forests of Italy. He preached to the birds, befriended wolves, and called even the smallest insect his brother or sister. To his disciples, this seemed strange, yet he understood a truth that echoed across centuries: that all life is kin, bound together by the Creator’s design. In his eyes, as in Lumley’s mother’s teaching, the lowliest worm deserved as much wonder as the proud eagle. Such wisdom was not weakness—it was strength, the kind of strength that unites rather than divides.

The quote also calls us to examine our own hearts. Do we not often judge creatures by their usefulness to us? The cow becomes sacred because it feeds us, the horse noble because it bears our burdens, the dog loyal because it loves us. Yet the spider, weaving her delicate webs in the dark, is cursed; the snake, coiled in silence, is condemned. Joanna Lumley’s words rise against this narrowness. They proclaim: the value of a being is not determined by our pleasure, but by its own right to exist. To recognize this truth is to widen the circle of our compassion until it embraces even those we fear.

Emotion stirs when we recall how civilizations fell into ruin through arrogance, treating nature as servant rather than companion. Rivers poisoned, forests cut down, creatures driven to extinction—all born of forgetting that they are just like us and just as deserving of consideration. The ancients knew that dishonor toward life brings dishonor upon oneself. In their myths, hubris against nature often led to downfall: the hunter Orion slain for his pride, the boastful Niobe punished for scorning the divine. These tales endure because they echo the law Lumley’s mother taught: respect, or be undone.

What lesson then must we take? It is simple, yet profound: to live not as conquerors, but as guardians. Respect all animals, not merely in thought but in deed. Feed the stray cat, but also spare the harmless spider. Walk softly where snakes dwell, not with hatred, but with understanding. Teach children to look with wonder at the smallest ant as well as the mighty whale. By these small actions, we become participants in a greater order, one where balance, mercy, and awe guide our steps.

The call is not to sentimentality, but to courage. It is easy to dismiss what frightens us, to crush what inconveniences us. Harder it is to pause, to breathe, to recognize the spark of life even in what repels. Yet in that pause lies greatness. If we can master our fear of the rat, our disgust of the worm, our dread of the serpent, then perhaps we can also master the deeper shadows within ourselves. In doing so, we rise as true children of wisdom, living in harmony with the endless choir of life.

Thus, let these words be etched into your heart: Respect all animals, and I mean all animals. Carry them as a torch into the world. Let it guide your hand when you are tempted to harm, let it soften your voice when you teach the young, let it humble you when you walk upon the earth. In this way, you honor not only the animals, but also yourself, your ancestors, and the generations yet to come. For the earth belongs not to us alone, but to every living soul that breathes beneath the sun.