Beauty in the Mutt

She was walking in circles, with a limp, and looking for a new existence.

It was time to end the charade and give back to her what was rightfully hers. Life had taken a drastic turn that was always expected, but not right now. She had a few good weeks left in her, or so I thought. Now the whirlwind of the truth made me once again realize that death is imminent but always still so painful. Tears and memories cascaded from the sky, as plentiful as the universe in which they existed.

But sadness is still happiness that is cloaked in a blanket of thorns. There is that little extra humanity that exists when a tear equates to the sheer honestly of reality, that maybe life is sometimes too overwhelming and pain is necessary for the population to understand its fragility.

She still wasn’t eating. Her body had become bristle and bone structure, her mind a clear shell of its former self. She tried to be herself, she really did. I will never fault that against her. Her zest for life was too low for any living thing to thrive and be content, so it would be unreasonable to pretend that feeling would ever come over her again. Her heart was beating to the tune of a different drum; crying out and wanting our help but not even being strong enough to express such sentiment. It was a sad sight, albeit it was bound to happen sooner or later.

It’s eerie how certain signs point to eventual demise and how that is the way things play out many times. You never hear of a cancer-stricken person who dies after getting run over by a bus. I’m sure it’s happened before and will probably happen again, but the point is that it’s a rare occurrence. Death has its own eerie way of finishing people off with the appropriate amount of sincerity.

When the day had finally come to cut the cord and let peace take control of the rapidly devolving situation, I was seemingly content. At least for a while. My mind swarmed with memories consisting only of the good times. It was not a time to dwell on the moments of weakness which were sometimes encountered because those moments did not define her; they did not shape her legacy as a beautiful creature in a perverted world. I remembered her how I wish to be remembered when I meet that same fate.

The doctor put the needle into her deteriorating body and said, “I’m so sorry.” Those words punched me in the face like a heavyweight boxer attempting the final brutal blow in the waning rounds, stopping me in my tracks and causing me not to blink as if not to miss anything.

Seconds remained in her life as I stared into her helpless eyes and wished I could have one more day with her, even one more hour of blissful satisfaction. The fatal shot she received seemed to destroy me as well as I was caught up in an instant I would never forget. I held her head as her eyes rolled into the back of her head. Her soul climbed to the abyss and I could not grab it.

Tears flowed like rain in a towering thunderstorm. I was losing my breath, gasping for air wherever I could find it. There was no sign of life in her body or mine. My existence throttled back and forth as if I was a passenger in a car in a high speed chase, contorting my bones in ways I didn’t know was possible. I couldn’t stop the tears, but I did stop the pain for that beautiful girl.

How instantaneous the effect was. The event changed my life and all those lives around me in a matter of seconds. I still didn’t blink. I couldn’t no matter how hard I tried. I shuffled my feet towards the exit of the building, seeing beady eyes stare me down and causing me to cry some more. Raindrops fell from the sky, providing a fitting scene for the moment and the final few months. I wasn’t sure if my face was wet from the rain or the tears.

I sat in the car and stared at the brick wall ahead of me, finally starting to get a hold of myself in the best way I could. The new chapter of my life had arrived without any sort of compassion beyond the fact that her life was in better hands, wherever she was. That fact actually made me feel better.


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