Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Bye-Bye Spotty (content warning)

Here we go again... i wish people would cared as much about their children as I do about my Spotty. So I guess this is goodbye again. I'm not stupid, and I know that I can't blame my mom for this one since I'll be the one to drive her to the shelter tomorrow.

What the fuck is wrong with me? I really hate this world.

No one gives a shit about the kids who are already here living in poverty, foster homes, on the streets, or anyway the can to survive. So who gives a shit about a few people who at least have the luxury of a quick painless death rather than having it drained out of them day by day; tear by tear, year after year after year after year.

I don't want to get rid of Spotty. I don't want her euthanized when I feel her little head nuzzled against my neck. She is not sick, she is not, her only crime is belonging to me. What the fuck with thois wprld. we can through puppies into plastic bags and freeze them to death because it is "easier" than "putting them to sleep."

So yeah, there you have it. I fucked up again. How ironic that the one thing I don't have is the only ting people seem to want from me. I can't wait to hear about this one. I am 36 years old. I am not a child I am not a criminal I am not cruel.

Why must they take the one thing I love-- the one thing that loves me. Does it make it all better for everybody else? dad, I learned my lesson. I have accepted the hand I have been dealt.

If I say I'm sorry, would that make it okay for me to keep Spotty? Will someone please tell me what I need to say because I'm not sure what I did.

I'm old enough to know that nobody's coming to save me. I don't even biother to ask but why must an innocent animal who did nmot ask for this be the ultimat6e ounishment for a sin I don't remeber conmmitting.

So where does Spotty go? To the farm with Abby & Ollie during divorce number two and custody battle number 4? WIll my father mail me some fake ashes out of the fire place. Will my mommy drive her out to Suffolk County so she can use an assumed name like "Harrison" so I can't locate her? At least I found Pepe. I can only hope that one day I'll find Spotty.

Special message to two "special" people: KBDWK: I hope some takes Ziggy from you. Dad? Well, whatever. I can't think of anything care enough about to lose-- so enjoy. You win. Isurrender. Whatever. I guess you'll tell what I'm supposed to do because that worked so well with my last Landlord.

Why can't live a life without empathy. I guess if you don't love anything but yourself, you will never know grief.

Well now I'm really fucked, because I'm not all fond of myself these days. Don't worry, you don't need to call parents, they already know, and they couldn't care less. In fact they'll probably bill you for wasting there time. Besides, unless you went Harvard, Yale or Princeton they give a shit what you think. So join the the club.

Goodnight for now. I'm going for a drive to see if I can find a shelter for poor little Spotty.

Just remeber this: Spotty didn't chose me. I chose her. So here we we go again... apparently there is not a single person I know who is is willing to save Spotty. Actually that sounds about right. I know exactly how she feels.

~Previous Post Remembering Pepe~

I am standing in a sea of unfamiliar faces. There is violence everywhere. Red. Broken. Bleeding.

I am holding Pepe, and he is broken. Bleeding. Clinging to me, clinging to life. I rush through the crowd looking for safety. There is no way out. Just angry faces in a sea of violence.

In the distance, I see two police officers. I run to them believing they will help me find a way out of the madness. Believing they will bring me to safety. A safe haven. Shelter from the storm. Free from the madness. Free from the violence. Free from this sea of unfamiliar faces so I can get my bleeding, broken, suffering friend the help he needs to make him well. The help we need to be whole again.

When I reach the podium, the men were facing the crowd. They were standing there, backs to me; they just stood there to face to the crowd banging their black, wooden nightsticks while on just standing there Beating their nightsticks against their palms. I call out but no one listens. No one can hear me above the roar of the crowd. So I tap them on the shoulder, holding Pepe close to my heart— hoping they will instinctively see the love and fear in his yellow gold eyes. Of course, they would rescue us. Yes, they would rescue us and bring us to safety. Free from the violence, free from the madness. Free from this hell and take us somewhere safe. Somewhere far, far away from here. And then they turn. In unison, they turn around to face me, and I look at them. I am horrified. I am horrified because these are not police officers at all. They are clowns. Literally, figuratively, in every way they are simply clowns. Clowns in uniform. In unison. In unanimity. Inhumanity. My worst nightmare. The cops were clowns.

Pepe was “only” a cat, but I made him a promise that I intended to keep. I would give him everything I longed for: keep him safe, keep him fed, make him well, I would give him love. Lots and lots of love. Unconditional love. Always. Until the day my perfect little angel would return to heaven. And I did. And he did. And we did. Alone, together, Pepe gave me strength when I was too weak to care for myself. He could not talk, but he sure tried!

After seventeen years, Pepe died the other day, and my worst nightmare did not come true. I loved him until the very end. Even then he gave me the most perfect and fitting gift. He gave me freedom. He gave me comfort. He gave me hope and he gave me peace.

I know that I can love. I am capable of complete, total, unconditional love. He was like a child. Pure, innocent and completely, totally, unconditionally loved. Yes, I am capable of love. I am capable of complete, total, and unconditional love. Pepe, my precious angel, may you rest in peace… There is a better place for you now. There always was.

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Elyssa D. Durant, Ed.M.