You cannot share your life with a dog, as I had done in

The words of Jane Goodall — "You cannot share your life with a dog, as I had done in Bournemouth, or a cat, and not know perfectly well that animals have personalities and minds and feelings." — shine with the light of truth spoken from experience. They are not the cold conclusions of a laboratory, but the warm testimony of one who has lived among creatures, not as master but as companion. In her words is the ancient recognition that we are not alone in bearing minds and feelings, that the world of animals is not mute, mechanical, or empty, but vibrant with personalities, as varied and profound as our own.

The origin of this truth is found in Goodall’s own life, long before she became the renowned voice of chimpanzees in Gombe. In Bournemouth, as a young girl, she shared her days with dogs and cats, discovering what all children sense before the world teaches them otherwise — that animals think, feel, rejoice, and suffer. She learned not from books but from the gaze of a dog’s eyes, from the quiet companionship of a cat’s purr. From these humble beginnings blossomed her great mission: to prove to the world what she already knew, that animals are not objects, but beings.

History too bears witness. Consider St. Francis of Assisi, who called the birds his brothers and the wolves his kin. In an age when many thought animals soulless, he proclaimed their dignity and spoke to them as fellow children of creation. Or recall Alexander the Great, whose beloved horse Bucephalus was said to understand his master’s every command and carried him into countless battles. These stories echo Goodall’s words, reminding us that across time, those who walked closest with animals knew the truth: their spirits are not lesser, but simply different, glowing with their own unique light.

Science itself, once skeptical, has now bent toward this wisdom. Where once animals were thought to act only by instinct, research now confirms what Goodall and countless pet owners always knew: dogs grieve, elephants remember, dolphins play, crows solve puzzles, and chimpanzees form bonds of loyalty and rivalry. The personalities of animals are no less real than those of humans; the difference lies only in the forms they take. To deny this is to blind oneself to the living truth of the world.

The meaning of Goodall’s words is thus both tender and revolutionary. To admit that animals have minds and feelings is to shatter the illusion that humanity stands alone at the summit of life. It demands humility, compassion, and responsibility. For if animals feel joy, they also feel pain. If they form bonds, they also feel loss. To know this is to recognize that cruelty toward them is not merely wasteful, but unjust — and that kindness toward them enriches not only their lives but ours.

The lesson for us is clear: if you live with animals, see them as they are. Look into the eyes of your dog or cat and recognize the presence of a soul, a will, a story unfolding beside your own. Extend this recognition beyond your home: to the creatures in fields, forests, and seas. Treat them not as things to be used, but as companions on the journey of life. In doing so, you align yourself with the ancient harmony of creation.

What, then, should you do in practice? Cultivate compassion toward animals. Care for your pets as you would a friend. Support practices that protect wildlife and reject those that exploit them. Learn from them — their loyalty, their resilience, their joy in simple things. And above all, do not close your heart to the truth that they too have stories, though told in voices different from our own.

Thus let this teaching endure: animals have personalities, minds, and feelings. To live with them is to witness this truth firsthand. And to honor that truth is to walk in deeper kinship with the world, not as conqueror, but as fellow traveler under the sun.