Those who know me know how much I love animals.

As a child, I wanted to be a vet when I grew up. One birthday, I got a toy “Pet Vet” kit: a blue cardboard box that contained plastic syringes, a small toy stethoscope, gauze, and other veterinary accoutrement. It was a favorite present, and I readily administered care to my many stuffed animals in the following months. (It came of actual use when I accidentally left a stuffed bear on top of an incandescent light bulb, singing its leg fur and requiring me to gauze and tape it up so I wouldn’t get carbon on my hands when I played with him.)

My love of animals never developed into a veterinary career, but I’ve found ways to continue having them in my life, both as a pet owner and as a general enthusiast. My husband and I have enjoyed several ethical meet-and-greets with animals at zoos and sanctuaries: we’ve fed grapes to red pandas, watched penguins toddle around us, observed rescued wolves up close, and got mildly harassed by a curious capybara (well, bit—it was my fault for not feeding her kale quickly enough).

Last weekend, we paid a visit to the New England Aquarium, a fantastic aquarium with scores of local and not-so-local wildlife. Our main activity was meeting and feeding the aquarium’s Atlantic Harbor Seals; this time, their oldest seal named Amelia.

We entered a tight space where the animal handlers (and, in that moment, the small group of folks meeting the seals) donned rubber boots and grabbed buckets full of pieces of fish. It was only another few steps before we walked through a second door to the seal exhibit where tourists peered at the seals and ourselves through glass.

As prey species, the handler told us, seals can get spooked by new people and perceived intruders, so we stood watching the seals from a rocky ledge for a few minutes to allow them to get used to our presence. While we waited, the handler explained some additional facts and stories about the seals.

Amelia, who we’d be meeting, was the oldest of the seals. Earlier that summer, she had surgery to remove her left eye, due to an ongoing issue with cataracts and some resulting eye pain. Following the surgery, her pain diminished, and she retained clear eyesight out of her right eye.

At last it was time to meet Amelia face to face. Her handler held a small bowl-like object above the water, a visual signal to Amelia to come to that handler to come eat. The other seals in the tank likewise spotted their objects and swam to their respective handlers for their own snacks.

Over the next fifteen minutes, we learned more about the seals—the fact that they’re conscious breathers, their food preferences, their ongoing health regimen at the aquarium—while witnessing the bright creature patiently engage with us newcomers.

She took food from each of us, sparing us from her razor sharp teeth. She gave each of us a gentle kiss on the cheek. And she performed a bevy of tricks, from waving her fins to jumping out of the water to dancing upright in the water. The handler explained that, in addition to entertainment value, the training helps build relationships between trainer and animal, something essential to their ongoing care. (Imagine trying to brush the teeth of a sharp-toothed seal when you haven’t established that, if they do X behavior, they get a snack as a reward.)

The time passed quickly, but I was struck by how calm, patient, and sweet this creature was, and felt a swell of care and kindness towards her. It reminded me of my ongoing love for animals, and how at peace I feel when I’m around them. Such is one of the challenges of living in an urban environment: beyond pets, the only animals that are in immediate proximity are rabbits, birds, rarely-seen rats, and the occasional squirrel. (I exclude the mosquitos that continue to plague Massachusetts.)

At the very least, I’m grateful to live in a place where animals are never too far away, even if they aren’t in a mythical bucolic backyard full of wildflowers and deer and foxes and other critters. I don’t know who, when, or what I’ll meet next, but spending time with Amelia was a reminder that time with an animal is always time well spent.