Days pass, weeks pass and years pass, all of them, filled with other events and other stories. Many of those stories related one way or another to Chi-Chi’s existence and the factors which constructed that existence, but all of those stories, if told, will be told in another time of their own choosing.
A son, struggling and suffering from plenty of his own issues and neuroses, matured a little bit during those days, weeks and years. And though still an embryo of understanding and ultimate awareness, confused thoroughly by his own desires and psyche and the behavior of others, he still fought for a way out of the damn chosen darkness of insanity that was more than ever present in his family and the masses that surrounded him on every front. Maybe, it was instinctual, some form of genetic programming, or perhaps, it was a response to his own observation of such obvious distortion of logic and perception in others, like every force in the universe creating some kind of opposite or counter force. Maybe, he just chose differently; instead of choosing the path less traveled or the path more traveled, seeing insanity and madness and the same mind-fucking on both, he decided to walk a path of his own; a path of freedom, that though still overgrown with endless thickets of monstrous barbed thorns, and paved by the constant peril of loose, jagged, uneven ground, was still preferable to yielding the graces given unto him of reason and passion and desire and awareness. It was still preferable to face everything he had birthed and induced upon himself through his own demonic sins than to pretend, than to fake it, than to seek comfort in beings of lesser awareness, beings who enjoyed their own ignorance and torture and the torturing of others, than to sink so low as to bastardize what he knew, what he damn well knew, as love and honesty and integrity and truth, than to succumb to their subverted version of life and existence, where they changed all of the rules, all the labels, and all of the truths on a constant basis, so as to revolve their modified, tainted, and distorted world around only one central entity; one unquestionable, unchallengeable, supremely selfish master of the universe; themselves. Fear ruled most of them and ignorance, the rest. Both sins were highly infectious and as such, were also sins of the utmost unity, binding brother to brother, sister to sister, husband to wife, and on and on, including mother to son. And how they hated it…..profoundly and viscerally, hated it, when you turned your back on their diseased unity; when you decided to escape your own ignorance and theirs as well. They suffered so severely when you dropped your shackles of fear and turned your back on their bindings and on their jailers, and when you walked slowly, slowly away.
On the path of pursuing a doctorate in veterinarian medicine, the son eventually enters undergraduate college and shortly thereafter, obtains a job as a kennel worker in a local veterinary hospital. Working hands-on at the hospital, alongside many other good souls, he learns the perspective of these souls on euthanasia. And their perspective on this topic, agrees with his own. He knows deep down in the core of his being, as he has always known, that this perspective is proper and just, and that inducing or not ending needless suffering, is the worst sin imaginable. If there are crimes against God, this is one of the foremost.
A moment eventually arrives when we all must decide the character of our own spine. We decide if we will walk upright, regardless of what weight must be borne in that posture, or if we will hunch and contort and twist our vertebra in disfigurement, to seek from others, as well as ourself, the excuses of mental pity and of the physical inability to carry any real or substantial weight. Most choose such disfigurement and the shield of the excuses it forges. And it would be bad enough if they stopped there…if that choice was the limitation of collateral damage that they induced by their fear and their weakness on those within their orbit. But…but, on top of that destructive choice of sacrificing their heart, mind and soul, most of them, sinned further. Most of them, then became neurotic monsters, pretending and professing that they, they walked with the most upright posture of all. They attempted to turn the world upside down, it became a game of trickery and delusion and strict avoidance of the truth. It became a world where the weak, pitiful, neurotic creatures became masterful actors and actresses, gaining power and control over all, from the support of their brothers and sisters of equal neurotic caliber, along with the ever-present, hopelessly ignorant, portion of the population. For the true truth observers of non-fictional, upright posture, have no time for such acting and manipulating and contrived deception. The true truth observers are too busy holding the world upside right, and instituting all of the tough love in the world, which is so fundamental to existence. The true truth observers bear all of the weight of the world on their own shoulders and usually do so in silence, while the Disfigured Spines falsely and masterfully, proclaim loudly…so damn loudly and endlessly, that they are the only ones who are righteous, and capable of love, and fit to rule. Pray intently that you never experience their love, their rule or their righteousness, for all are vile, contrived, bastardizations, ultimately turning the true gifts of these graces, by hijacked namesake and convenient, compelling distortion, into the confusing and confounding delusions which promote the sin of lost faith and hopelessness in all things. Those of mislead, but true soul, are often driven mad by such, if they are not driven more quickly, one way or another, into the grave.
Our son decides to stand…at least, stand as best as he is able. He has learned from his job at the veterinary hospital how to euthanize animals with a heart-stick. It is a little crude, but still a humane method of euthanasia, performed by directly injecting euthanasia solution into the heart. He goes through the task of discussing his plan with the veterinarian who owns the hospital and he obtains his approval. Then, in words now forgotten, he broaches the subject with his mother and he reaches out to hold the hand of the little trembling girl, who is hiding inside, behind an enormous wall. The little girl still retains sincere compassion and a desire to do what is right…she is just scared shitless and she is tired of hurting and tired of loss. Her son sees her pain and weakness and he knows that he must assume all of responsibility and all of the guilt for the tough love that should be done. He must carry the weight for his mom and he must also carry the weight for Chi-Chi; there is no one else to rely upon. If his father had dared to suggest the same alternative to his mother, she would have immediately transformed her fear into anger and hatred towards her husband, which would have only lead to further distraction and another cycle of avoidable madness. His mother could not play that same fear-transformation-game with her sons that she played with her husband; her psyche did not work that way.
The little girl emerges the victor this time. It is a very rare thing, to see her step out from behind the wall, even if it is just to cry and to let go. She yields to her son…she yields after years of fear and anticipation of what should be done. Her unbearable burden is finally lifted off of her shoulders, because another soul of heart, and understanding, and trust, has sacrificed for her and done so in total awareness of the responsibility of the transferred burden.
So one day, when no one else is home, the son, gathers Chi-Chi and takes her outside, near the edge of the patio. He is able to gently pin her to the ground, because of her paralyzed condition and while she is pinned, he takes a syringe out of one of his pockets. It is a syringe filled with pink euthanasia solution. He approximates his target by flexing her elbow on her lateral chest wall. Then, he feels for the location of her most intense heart beat, and the two support the same mark. Chi-Chi is stirring restlessly from restraint, when the son finally plunges the needle through her chest wall. She squirms and yelps, much more than he would like, as the needle hits its target in either a major blood vessel or in a chamber of her heart. Then, Chi-Chi begins to squirm more aggressively and yelp louder and louder, as he pushes the pink solution into her body. She is still yelping, almost at a whisper, and still squirming, slightly and without coordination, when he withdraws the syringe. He holds her the best he can. Part of him is filled with utter hate and disgust and joy that the monster is finally dying, and the other part, sees a little, helpless, furry puppy, that never did a damn thing wrong; a cute, innocent puppy that was simply trying to live; trying to exist the best it could. Despite his confused hate and disgust, he now knows that Chi-Chi wasn’t the real monster, he knows this too well…….and maybe, that was part of the reason that he found himself crying as he held her during her last breath.
To be continued…