Pets

As you may be aware of from the last post, I like death. I don't "like" it. I'm not a fan of it on facebook. But to live life, everyone comes to the realization that death is part of the process. To quote George Carlin, "Some say that life begins at conception. I say that life began a LOOOONG time ago and it's a continuous process. It just keeps moving along, moving along." That interests me. That, mixed with Einstein's theory that energy is never lost, it's just transferred... well, you get the idea. My mom has told me that I was so fascinated with death, and especially the dead at funerals as a kid. I was full of questions. Just as I still am today. I think it's healthy for kids to have questions and wonder about death. Sooner or later, they are going to experience losing a pet (probably a goldfish at first) and a person they know, and worst of all, someone they love. But it has a certain beauty to it, in that it is such a shared experience for everyone, no matter who you are, where you come from, what you believe, etc. It just happens. "Then it comes to be that the soothing light at the end of your tunnel was just a freight train coming your way" ('No Leaf Clover' - Metallica). So, I try not to dwell on death too much, along with anything else, but it's got a strong influence in who I am, and I'm guessing that it has quite an impact on most people, if not everyone.

So, that brings me to the title topic: pets. I love every pet that I've ever had. I've had 3 cats (as main pets...I'm not counting goldfish because...well... meh). My first cat was Slippers. She was the cat I grew up with. When she died, I was sad, but relieved. She lived to be 16 or 17... which is pretty damn good for a cat! And she was big too! But I could tell when her time was running out. And so, on her last day she went to the basement, under the staircase, found a peaceful quiet place to lay down, and died. My second cat was named Dog. I rescued him from Lowe's #1068 in Shallotte, NC where I used to work. He was my first cat that I took care of myself, and I did a good job up until we moved back to WV and he ran away. Sigh. I think he just wanted to go back to the coast. And finally, I have a cat named Vladimir. He's a pound cat. Rescued and rehabilitated from near-death thanks to the good people at the Humane Society in Frederick, MD. I've had him now for a little over two years, and he's my only family in my little house. This is all, by the way, a segue for the final paragraph.

Today was a good day. It's Friday. I don't mind that it's also the 13th because I'm not superstitious. Lots of bad things have happened on every day/number combination that has ever occurred. They are a matter of coincidence. So, back to the fucking story. Work was fine. Laid back. But right before leaving for the day my co-worker told me that they were going to put their dog down tomorrow. Although it is the most humane thing to do, and I'm glad I've never had to do it to a pet, I quickly learned through her tears just how really painful this was to go through with. We never share emotions, so it really struck me like lightning just how sad she was. It was sobering. I felt so bad for her, but we shared a little bit of a smile knowing that the poor guy would no longer be in suffering. So the whole ride home all I could think of was Vladimir. I got to dwelling on just how much I love him, and how sad I would be if I lost him. He's like my child. It was such a sobering ride home. So, when I got home, and he walked over to my truck to greet me like he does every day, I picked him up and gave him a big hug. He hates being held, so he quickly squirmed in discomfort and I let him go. But just looking at him, and stopping for a second to think about how much a pet can improve the quality of your life, I felt happy to have him right there next to me, licking beer off of the mouth of my bottle. Like father, like son.
 Until next time....
-Bonn