The Puma Years
by Laura Coleman
Laura Coleman was a twenty-something caught up in the modern London rat-race. She put tons of importance on social status, surface interactions, and people-pleasing for no real purpose. Something inside her snapped, and she decided to take some time off to volunteer at an animal rescue shelter in Bolivia. Yes, Bolivia. Her memoir, The Puma Years, doesn’t sugarcoat anything. She doesn’t just say, “There was no indoor plumbing,” and let it go at that. She describes the compost toilet in detail, from the feces-covered, flimsy walls to the brightly colored spider who lives there and watches over every bowel movement (whom she later names Hagrid). She doesn’t list mosquitoes, worms and tics; she makes you question her mental health that she would actually stay in Bolivia. Indeed, there were times when I truly believed Coleman had lost her mind. Voluntarily opting to live in such horrific circumstances year after year at the expense of her health and basic functionalities didn’t seem like the act of a sane person. Surely she and the other workers at the shelter were no longer in possession of their faculties!
Volunteers were housed in un-floored little shacks, which also housed any number of critters. When she first arrived and saw some of the folks choosing to sleep in the bunker with the monkeys, she thought they were nuts. Breathing in monkey feces all night long isn’t healthy! Of course, as she adjusted, she too wanted to sleep with the monkeys, no matter how much feces was smeared on the walls and collected in the sheets. Food was questionable, and she often sustained herself on cigarettes, coffee, and a potent “energy plant” that was like Red Bull turned into chewing tobacco. Naturally, living on such little nutrition, fearing constant danger, breathing in animal feces, and allowing parasites to live inside her body without proper (or improper, really) medical care, led me to the conclusion that Coleman wasn’t in her right mind.
If this were just a novel, I would have thought it a beautiful story. The sections where she bonded with the wild, frightened puma (which is the point of the story, folks) are very touching. The large cat, though technically capable of doing great damage, was gentle and just needed a little kindness. Reading about the first time the puma purred and let Coleman pet her stirred something in my heart. As I read a kindle version of this book, all the photos were pushed to the end. Looking at the photographs of most of the animals written about in the book, and several shots of the camp itself, was so touching. I felt quite emotional when I saw the love, peacefulness, and innocence reflected in Wayra the puma’s face. If you’re an animal lover at all, you will absolutely read this book over and over. You might not buy a ticket to Bolivia, but you will definitely think twice before you go to the zoo.
However, it’s not just a novel. This is a true story, and all these unsanitary conditions exist. All these abused and abandoned animals are really being cared for by dysfunctional volunteers who have retreated from civilization for one reason or another. Someone really did live with a worm burrowed in her knee, making her physically sick for months. Someone was only allowed to take ice-cold showers once a week, and she looked forward to them. That someone was Laura Coleman, and not to be comical, but she lived to tell the tale.
Volunteers were housed in un-floored little shacks, which also housed any number of critters. When she first arrived and saw some of the folks choosing to sleep in the bunker with the monkeys, she thought they were nuts. Breathing in monkey feces all night long isn’t healthy! Of course, as she adjusted, she too wanted to sleep with the monkeys, no matter how much feces was smeared on the walls and collected in the sheets. Food was questionable, and she often sustained herself on cigarettes, coffee, and a potent “energy plant” that was like Red Bull turned into chewing tobacco. Naturally, living on such little nutrition, fearing constant danger, breathing in animal feces, and allowing parasites to live inside her body without proper (or improper, really) medical care, led me to the conclusion that Coleman wasn’t in her right mind.
If this were just a novel, I would have thought it a beautiful story. The sections where she bonded with the wild, frightened puma (which is the point of the story, folks) are very touching. The large cat, though technically capable of doing great damage, was gentle and just needed a little kindness. Reading about the first time the puma purred and let Coleman pet her stirred something in my heart. As I read a kindle version of this book, all the photos were pushed to the end. Looking at the photographs of most of the animals written about in the book, and several shots of the camp itself, was so touching. I felt quite emotional when I saw the love, peacefulness, and innocence reflected in Wayra the puma’s face. If you’re an animal lover at all, you will absolutely read this book over and over. You might not buy a ticket to Bolivia, but you will definitely think twice before you go to the zoo.
However, it’s not just a novel. This is a true story, and all these unsanitary conditions exist. All these abused and abandoned animals are really being cared for by dysfunctional volunteers who have retreated from civilization for one reason or another. Someone really did live with a worm burrowed in her knee, making her physically sick for months. Someone was only allowed to take ice-cold showers once a week, and she looked forward to them. That someone was Laura Coleman, and not to be comical, but she lived to tell the tale.