103 lines
5.4 KiB
Plaintext
103 lines
5.4 KiB
Plaintext
Archive-name: Bestial/lament.txt
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Archive-author: Nevyn
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Archive-title: Lament
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And, because I want the signal to noise ratio to stay up, (yes, yes,
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I know. This is my last post today, I promise!):-
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Lament.
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~~~~~~~
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-The death of a friend.
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What's it like being a 'Zoo'? I mean, how emotionally attached
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can you get to a dumb animal? Aren't you just using the animals for sex?
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Forgive me Xanth, I can't use your real name in this, much as
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it pains me.
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Xanth was my lover and friend for several years. She was an
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English Mastiff bitch. She was very affectionate to everyone she met; a
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regular cream puff. I can't even begin to put into words all the happy
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memories I have of her, and the love I had for her.
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I know there was nothing I could have done to save her life, but
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I DO know I could have made her quality of life better, and I regret
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that I learned that lesson after her death.
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I guess I suspected she wasn't well, but the event that made me
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take her to the vet for a check up was when she had a convulsion. I
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suspect she had other convulsions when I wasn't around, but this was the
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first I had witnessed. And it scared the bejesus out of me. Xanth lay
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on her side with her legs locked stiff, her face was contorted into a
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rictus, and she was champing her teeth so I was fearing for her tongue.
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As she spasmed, she urinated uncontrollably. I phoned my vet in a
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panic, and he told me to watch her and keep her company. So I sat with
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her until the spasm passed, and for about an hour afterwards. She was
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very distressed when she regained control of her body.
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When I took her to the vet, he took several blood tests and
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discovered she was dangerously low in calcium. So we put her on a high
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dosage calcium supplement and for awhile she improved. Meanwhile the vet
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had discovered that Xanth had a congenital kidney disease that was
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causing her high blood toxicity. All too soon Xanth lost her appetite
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and started to waste away again. My wife and I tried to bring her
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appetite back up by trying every brand of dog-food on the market. We
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cooked her special treats and meals. But she still slowly wasted away.
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If you could have seen the comparison between the healthy glowing animal
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she was, and the frail, thin creature I took back to the vet, you would
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have cried.
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I remember standing in the vets office as he explained what he
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could try next to increase her appetite and get her eating again. Then
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it kinda hit me. I asked him if we were curing her, or just prolonging
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the inevitable. He said that basically there was no hope for her. So I
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calmly told him that I would like to have her euthanased.
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I sent my wife to wait for me in the waiting room, and I held
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onto Xanth while the vet injected the lethal drug. The drug was a bright
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blue colour, and I remember thinking that nothing that colour injected
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could be good for you. Then Xanth got very heavy in my arms, and I
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realised she was dead. Just like that.
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And I lowered her gently to the floor, still caressing her head.
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And I cried.
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My wife comforted me, and drove me back to our house. I thought
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I was O.K., and then I burst into tears in the kitchen and couldn't stop
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crying. I didn't have any idea how much I loved Xanth until she was
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gone.
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I was depressed for a long time. My work was suffering and my
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relationship with my wife was suffering. People I knew would make
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comments that on the surface were quite harmless, but cut me deeply:-
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"You got rid of one of your dogs, didn't you.", and "Look, it was only
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a dog. You'll get over it!"
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After I found myself idly wondering how I'd commit suicide (just
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as an intellectual exercise, you understand), I realised that something
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had to be done. Finding a Psychologist in this city proved an awful lot
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harder than I was expecting. Eventually my doctor referred me to a free
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counselling service.
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I found it surprisingly easy to talk to the counsellor.
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Eventually I told him of my sexual relationship with Xanth. I have to
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confess that I was expecting him to denounce me and wheel out a
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straight-jacket. But he surprised me by declaring happily that THAT was
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the reason I was so feeling so damned rotten. I hadn't lost a dog, I
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had lost a lover! And I couldn't express that pain to my friends because
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of the social taboo. Even my wife couldn't fully comprehend the extent
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of the loss I had suffered. So I was being forced to carry the pain of
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my loss all alone.
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That man saved my sanity, and possibly my life. A week later I
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saw him again, but the session was short. I didn't really need him
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anymore. I had my loss back in perspective and my pain under control.
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I am a 'zoo'. And I like myself. My dogs aren't a warm hole to
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fuck, to me. They are my lovers. Our sex is an extension of our love.
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Nevyn, in the flesh.
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--------------------------------------------
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Just a footnote. The above was an event which happened to me quite
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awhile ago now. Take what you will out of it. If you get something good
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out of it, great, you did well. If you get something bad out of it,
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sorry, but that is your fault and frankly I don't give a toss.
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Ah, <sigh>, I whaffle again. Sorry. I'm in a melancholic kinda mood
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after reading that again.
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N.
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