The things I spend my time thinking about are numerous.
Whenever my mind crosses the idea of having children I don’t
think “I want a baby” I think more along the lines of wanting to bring someone
into this world in a better place than I was, I think of teaching them to
become a good person, who is open and loving and forgiving and adventurous and
fearless and smart. I want to bring someone into this world so that I can
instill the best of all I have learned in life.
I often think of all the people I’ve known in my life –
either briefly or for longer moments. Those I had relationships and friendships
with. I wonder where they are in their lives, whether they’re happy. I wonder
what life is like for them, and if they ever think of me the way that I think
of them. I think about what kinds of stories we’d have to tell to each other,
if we ever met again. Would we talk like no time had ever passed? Or would it
be awkward and different? I think of everyone, and wonder if they know how much
I appreciate the way they were once a part of my life, and how grateful I am to
have known them. I want to tell everyone I know - and once knew – that I love
them for who they are and the part they played in my life.
When I’m driving, my mind always goes to my biggest fear in
life. This is because my fear is that one day I might accidentally run over an
animal. I’ve seen so many dead animals on the road, and it always breaks my
heart. I wonder, what kind of pain did they feel? Were they afraid? Did they
have a good life – full of love? Or were they alone, strays running away from
everything, always thinking about survival? Did they know what it feels like to
be loved? Did anyone care about them? Did anyone try to save them?
This always makes me think of all the strays in the world,
and how afraid and lonely they probably are. I wish that I could save them all,
and give them all the kind of love they deserve. I wish that I could give them
all safety and protection and stability, something good that they can rely on.
I don’t like that hundreds of animals arrive at a shelter every day and that so
many of them go unclaimed and are euthanized. It breaks my heart that those who
are euthanized live the last days of their lives wondering what happened, where
they are, why doesn’t someone love them. So many spend the rest of their days
afraid and alone in an unwelcoming place, a metal cage and a concrete floor and
no one to care.
I think of my animals – my four-legged children. I think of
how guilty I feel for not giving Zulu the attention she deserves, for not
playing fetch with her and for staring at my computer and phone instead of
loving her. I want her to understand how much she means to me, and how empty my
life would be without her. I wish I could give her the world, and I hate that
she has to spend most of her life waiting for me to come home, waiting for me
to look at her, just waiting. I am always reminded, when I see her watching me
leave the house every day, of just how different our lives are. I can go and do
things, I have the world, while she only has me. I feel guilty every time I
look at her, because I know that she deserves so much more. And I feel grateful
too, because my life is so much richer and fuller with her in it.
And then there’s Othello. Every time I look at him, my heart
swells with pride. Pride at the fact that I was able, at least, to save one
life. When I look at him, I see all the progress he has made from the unkempt,
obese, terrified and alone cat he once was, the cat who had been in the shelter
for 3 years because nobody wanted an older cat with problems. He trusts me now,
he doesn’t run at the slightest sounds anymore, he rubs up against Zulu when he
used to hiss at just the sight of her. I feel grateful that I was able to give
him the love he needed, and the home and stability and protection he needed.
And when I see him, I think of the two cats I once had. One
was my baby, Mike. He was my shadow, ever since I was 12. He followed me, he
trusted me. When my mother could no longer keep him, I was able to hide him in
my dorm room for a few weeks, but then I was found out. Those last few weeks of
his life, he came to trust me even more, he loved me so much, he trusted me
when I told him it was okay to come out when he was hiding because someone came
into the room, and he would come out. When I no longer had a home for him to
stay, I made the hardest decision of my life. A decision I regret every second
I breathe. I did not want him to end up in the pound, wondering what happened
and why I left him. I didn’t want him to be afraid, and alone, and think I didn’t
love him. I didn’t want him to live his last days in a small metal cage.
Because no one adopts an eight year old cat. They want kittens. So I made the
decision to end his life, where I could hold him until the light left his eyes.
I wanted his last moments to be in my arms. That was four years ago, and to
this day I still regret it with every ounce of my being. It was a selfish
decision. I still wonder what things would be like if I had been able to find
him a home until I could keep him with me, because it was less than a year
later that I got married and moved into an apartment where I could have kept
him. Those last moments of his life haunt me.
The other cat I had, Skippy, had grown up with Mike. They
were brothers, and had known only us and each other for their entire lives
(eight years). At the same time that I gave Mike up, my mom decided to take
Skippy to the pound. I can still hear him meowing in my arms as we signed him
over. To this day, I wonder what happened to him. Did he ever find a new home?
Did he wonder why we gave him up? Did he spend his last days in a small metal
cage, afraid and alone, abandoned, missing the only life he had ever known?
Missing his brother?
I will never heal from these wounds of my past. I will never
be able to change my decisions. But I can learn from what I’ve done, and make
sure Zulu and Othello never have to know that kind of pain, never have to feel
abandoned and lost and alone. There are other things I think about, but right
now, my heart is feeling shattered. So I’m going to say goodnight.
Song of the night, playing over in my head:
Missing You - John Waite
