Three Days of Crying & Prayers

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If you love animals, this will break your heart.
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Julian
Julian
20 Followers

"The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with their bones"

       Mark Anthony/Julius Caesar, Act 3, Scene 2

*

It was the dump truck that made me cry first.

I just dropped off a pitbull puppy at ACS here in San Antonio, Texas, and I've been crying since I let her off the leash to the handler there. She is (I can't use 'was' yet; or maybe it's appropriate since she's no longer mine.) a wonderfully sweet and tame creature, a ball of fur and teeth. She is good with people and house-broken, and has maybe a year to a year and a half of age under those big paws. 

And she has 3 days to live.

San Antonio is trying but failing to adopt a No-Kill Policy for their center but the dumb-ass, back-water stupid-fuck people here have NO clue how to tend for an animal and they're of the Michael Vick's persuasion, meaning they think dogs need to 'fight' to be worthy of life, or 'bred' to insure they have a sense of worth in having a litter of dogs.

Thus, many dogs are not spayed or neutered.

Sometimes … depending on the day or time of year, you'll see a mother bitch with a line of pups walking down the road, or crossing the street, or find a lost puppy who was separated from the moving pack and is either dinner to something else or will die from exposure to the elements.

Sometimes you just find the remains…

I cried as I sent her into the office with the animal control worker, and I cried out the door, down the highway and all the way back home. Knowing her fate I am trying not to vomit or cry again. My own dog Blondie is a comfort to me.

As I waited to be processed, a young man came up, wearing dirty clothing, a sweat-soaked shirt and filthy boots.

"Hey," he said, "can you sign off on my truck?"

The worker taking care of me asked, "Is it ready? I gotta go soon."

"All the bodies are inside. I just gotta get it going."

When the word 'bodies' hit my mind, I was reeling. I could feel my stomach swirling, and the nausea was creeping into my spine. The man looked at me, and then the puppy looked up at me as we signed papers and answered questions about her disposition and well-being. I told him she was friendly, and her stool was clean and her pee was clear. I paused, and he took a picture of her, and then asked if I wanted to adopt her.

"If not in three days she's going to be destroyed."

I could feel the tears slipping out of the corners of my eyes: "If I could I wouldn't have brought her here. But I just can't afford her and … three days? I thought they had longer than that."

"No sir. That's all. Just three days."

I started weeping, calmly, then wiped my face and led her into the office to await a kennel, and then to await her fate. I made a sign-of-the-cross over her eyes, and as I pulled the leash off her neck and wound it in my hands, I could see her trying to follow me. A small push and she stayed in the office, and I walked out quickly, waiting to get in my car to let the tears flow.

As I strode out, I whispered to myself, "That's one of the shittiest things I've ever done."

And like I said, I cried all the way home. At the Valero store, the staff didn't restock hotdogs, chili or cheese, so it took a while to get a snack to calm my nerves. But eating at my feelings won't bring back that wonderful dog.

I didn't have the balls to keep her in the first place. I don't have the money to adopt her out of the ACS facility, and I didn't have the nerve to say the second I heard her fate, "Fuck it. I may live on bologna, but you're gonna live with me."

Someone who loved me once promised to live with me, even in poverty, and now I am living in poverty alone. I wish I had that love again, and I am heart-broken. I have no sense of up or down, and feel that all I am is a shadow of my former self. All my wounds are self-inflicted, and refuse to heal. But that's my own problem, and for it I should either be treated or die.

Right now I want to die. I couldn't save a dog my less alone my dreams, and I am falling apart, little by little, wishing there were more to my life than the agony in my heart and soul. I live a losing battle to chase my dreams, and I hope that IF that dog doesn't find a home, that God sees her to the Gates of Heaven. She deserves that much if nothing else; if no family here then a place with God above.

A lot of people worry about their fate.

I'm not very concerned.

In all honesty, I've been a very bad man for a very long time. I'm dishonest, a liar, a habitual deviate and pervert, and unworthy of the Love the Almighty has stored for us in Heaven. But that dog didn't do the things I did and deserves a chance to be happy, running until Time ends with other dogs, playing and enjoying her afterlife.

Personally I think I do my best towards God and His wishes. I'm kinder to a lot of people than I can imagine, even without a cent to my name or the hopes of a better job. Personally I always hope to be the kid everyone wants to be around, and maybe even after all these decades, I still feel like that: the last one picked, the one they're 'stuck with', the one who can't be chosen or fun or happy. Nothing I do ever came out right, and I am a train-wreck in my own feelings and heart.

I am sad, and have a headache.

This blog, this unending death, feels the same way. It should have slipped away, and yet refuses to die, and I hate the world for it. I wish they'd absorb every vowel, every syllable, every thought and construction of the ego and heart I care to spew into the air and through the power of words. I really wish I knew I could change the world somehow making other people happy with my expressions and ideas, voicing change, making them think twice, be aware, and maybe say 'Thank you Julian; you helped me see something I never knew about myself."

Fuck it – that's a goddamned wish that won't be fulfilled with two lifetimes.

Goodbye puppy. I'm sorry I can't do anything more than cry and pray.

I wish I could fix it, fix the world, fix my world.

But that's another impossibility.

Like being loved, and being honest.

Bullshit on top of bullshit.

I'll add the pictures later. I'll cry for now & have some Wild Turkey.

Maybe that'll ease the pain.

Maybe …

Ciao.

Julian
Julian
20 Followers
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7 Comments
auhunter04auhunter04about 12 years ago
I got Lucky

Having put my dogs to sleep because of medical problems over the past 6 months, my house sounded like a big echo box and it was quickly driving me into the ground.

I went to the classified and looked, one caught my eye, I sighed and looked at others as well. every few days I would get the urge and that same dog would still be there. I made a bunch of excuses to myself, even consideered a long drive down a short road.

then for the hell of it I emailed the contact, they are a rescue group for his kind of dog and yes he was still available.

He now lives in my house for the past few weeks and my life is begining to become better.

ya I got lucky..his name is Jaeger

JulianJulianover 14 years agoAuthor
Thank You Kindly

I won't be giving myself a high score as that's not 'kosher' but I am letting all of you who've read this entry that I appreciate all your kind words, thoughts and memories about the many dogs who have touched us deep inside where we fear going.

I shall continue writing poetry, fiction and my thoughts in many places about many things and thank you all for your support and words.

Blessings to all ~ anonymous & known.

Julian (the Author)

AnonymousAnonymousover 14 years ago
Thanks for the last comment

Julian is no doubt a sensitive and feeling person, but if you are cruel to either dogs or children anywhere near me, you will soon discover that I am not really a 'sweet man' - but thanks for the compliment. I hope you don't mind if I have a second bite at the cherry, but in my list of dogs' virtuous contributions to mankind's benefit, I left out one of the most important - guide dogs for the blind. Freddy

AnonymousAnonymousover 14 years ago
You're a sweet man Julian

as is Freddy. Sleep tight my friends.

AnonymousAnonymousover 14 years ago
Yes, there were some tears

I am a dog-lover, but I live in an 11th storey flat, and I don't think it's fair to keep one here. However, I have had many dogs in my 72 years of life so far, and I have found that they really are Man's Best Friend - much more faithful and trusting friends, in general, than other people are. I believe that the most likely explanation of that goes back to the discovery of fire by early humans. They would light a fire in front of their cave home, and cook meat on it, and the wild dogs [something like wolves, I suppose] would sneak up at the smell, then retrieve the bones thrown out by the cave dwellers. They would come to appreciate the warmth of the dying fire too, and take up positions to sleep near it. You don't bite the hand that feeds you - you make friends with it. Have you noticed that dogs, by nature, when they sleep indoors usually face the door? For many thousands of generations they have retained - in their own self-interest - the instinct to be on guard in protecting their humans. Some people who agree with this theory despise dogs as snivelling lickspittle scroungers, but there's no doubt in my mind that this sort of situation gave rise to the great relationship that people have with dogs - not only as pets, but as work colleagues [sheepdogs, police dogs, guard dogs, sniffer dogs who find drugs and explosives, and people under heaps of rubble after earthquakes and the like. In a sense, people who keep dogs accept the same sort of responsibility for them as parents bear towards their children, and the same principle applies to owners of other pets - cats, goldfish, birds, snakes, and anything else: if you can't handle them, don't have them. The dog described by the writer seems to have been abandoned by someone who was not up to accepting this kind of responsibility. Many foreigners say that we Britons love our animals more than our children - and to some extent, there may be some truth in that; even so, I am ashamed to say that we have more than our fair share of bastards and shits that are cruel and savage with either children or animals or both. Freddy

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