i kept brushing.
i had only a few minutes before i would have to shave, get dressed, and be off to work when i decided to brush my tiger. i had neglected his grooming for several days, and i had read that daily grooming was especially important for dogs who had behavior problems. in addition, i had noticed his skin had become somewhat dry and scratchy lately, and i thought that brushing might help.
i should have stopped.
right away, i could tell he was in an ill temper and averse to being brushed. if i had only looked at the signs, only listened to the frustration in the growls, perhaps things could have been different, but i kept brushing. and even when he snarled and tried to mouth my hand, i kept on, knowing he would feel much relief -- cleaner, fresher, once i was done. if i could only finish the duty, i could be off to work with a fresh mind, knowing my tiger had been well taken care of, that i had done everything that could be done.
i should have done less.
i saw, but did not feel, the teeth when they sank into the flesh at the base of the index finger on my right hand. some reflex told me not to pull my hand away, that the teeth would tear the flesh worse if i did this; some reflex told me this -- i did not think it. i had no time to think. and yet it tore, and seconds later the brush lay on the floor, and my hand was thrust numbly beneath warm running water, my body trembling as understanding dawned on my mind and the brush lay on the floor.
my tiger must have been bewildered, knowing that he had prevailed over the brush, but some deeper hurt had been accomplished. i don't mean to say that i think he reflected on the situation, nor do i believe he resented me at any time any more than i resented him. not even while my hand was receiving stitches in the emergency room did any feeling of anger or wrath plague me. nor do i believe that any anger motivated my tiger. even the biting was a reaction, one i had tried to patiently train out of him for the past months.
tiger is dead. i had him killed. and i am the one who would not stop the brushing.
Monday, December 18, 2006
Thursday, December 14, 2006
the ceiling
in august she started limping.
in october she had bone cancer.
in february she was dead.
i held her under the trees when she died. i didn't want the last thing she saw to be the ceiling of the examination room, the last smell she smelled the scent of iodine and sterile gauze in jars, the last sound she heard the voices of the other patients, some in obvious distress.
the last touch the cold of the metal table.
i had worked in a hospital once, and i had had many patients die like this. never was i in the room when they would die, but this only served to make their deaths seem the more lonely. i would remember what i had seen in their charts, what had been reported to me by the staff, and what i had gleaned by conversing with the patients. one man had lived his entire life on a farm before he was admitted to the hospital. he held on for a long time, the fungal infection in his lungs progressing to its inevitable end, the patient wheezing with more and more discomfort until he perished alone in a hospital room.
the last thing he saw was white.
i still feel sometimes like i can see him working on his farm in his coveralls, that i could pinpoint the very moment when the single spore invaded his lungs and overwhelmed his compromised immune system. i always picture him holding a bucket in front of a chicken house, face unshaven and grimy, head covered with a greasy cap, inhaling deeply the fresh air of the countryside, and being thankful that he has received so much. as he does so, he is unaware that a small microscopic particle comes in through his nose, flutters drily through his trachea, and lodges haplessly to the side of a mucous-slathered bronchial tube. from there it spreads deeply into his lungs.
the man wants to live. he is unaware even that the fungus has invaded, much less that it is terminal, much less that he will soon be dead. terminated. by a spore.
and my girl of cancer.
they had to amputate her leg. it was terminal, but they amputated her leg to treat the pain. she seemed as one of the saints those several months as she lived and i gave thanks, and in february i held her under the trees and she was gone. like the man, she too was caught unawares and knew not that it was her last chance to see the sun and breathe the warm, fresh air. she was gone. i lost something that day that will never return. i will always miss her.
in october she had bone cancer.
in february she was dead.
i held her under the trees when she died. i didn't want the last thing she saw to be the ceiling of the examination room, the last smell she smelled the scent of iodine and sterile gauze in jars, the last sound she heard the voices of the other patients, some in obvious distress.
the last touch the cold of the metal table.
i had worked in a hospital once, and i had had many patients die like this. never was i in the room when they would die, but this only served to make their deaths seem the more lonely. i would remember what i had seen in their charts, what had been reported to me by the staff, and what i had gleaned by conversing with the patients. one man had lived his entire life on a farm before he was admitted to the hospital. he held on for a long time, the fungal infection in his lungs progressing to its inevitable end, the patient wheezing with more and more discomfort until he perished alone in a hospital room.
the last thing he saw was white.
i still feel sometimes like i can see him working on his farm in his coveralls, that i could pinpoint the very moment when the single spore invaded his lungs and overwhelmed his compromised immune system. i always picture him holding a bucket in front of a chicken house, face unshaven and grimy, head covered with a greasy cap, inhaling deeply the fresh air of the countryside, and being thankful that he has received so much. as he does so, he is unaware that a small microscopic particle comes in through his nose, flutters drily through his trachea, and lodges haplessly to the side of a mucous-slathered bronchial tube. from there it spreads deeply into his lungs.
the man wants to live. he is unaware even that the fungus has invaded, much less that it is terminal, much less that he will soon be dead. terminated. by a spore.
and my girl of cancer.
they had to amputate her leg. it was terminal, but they amputated her leg to treat the pain. she seemed as one of the saints those several months as she lived and i gave thanks, and in february i held her under the trees and she was gone. like the man, she too was caught unawares and knew not that it was her last chance to see the sun and breathe the warm, fresh air. she was gone. i lost something that day that will never return. i will always miss her.
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
last sunday, a pheasant...
last sunday, a pheasant flew into the window as i sat correcting research papers. at first, i thought it was the blast from a shotgun hitting the side of the house, but as i peered out the upstairs window i could see her lying on the ground on her back. she twitched once, and then no more.
immediately, i called my brother. there was just no way i was going to bring my poor pathetic vegetarian self to do the deed if it should need to be done. i suppose i could have snapped her neck if i really needed to, but was afraid of how it might have affected me to know i killed an animal as lovely as a pheasant. i called my brother, then i went outside.
i crouched down in front of her and, reaching forward, touched her wing. no movement. i stroked her soft feathers with my hands, and could already feel little warmth. her neck looked crooked, tilted unnaturally to one side, her eyes were halfway closed and had the glazed look of death. as i sat crouched in the cold of the morning, i reflected on the loss of my dog tiger. i recalled how i had looked at tiger, how i had been almost unable to recognize him as a dead dog, how similarly lifelike this bird seemed to me, as if she would suddenly arise, shake her feathers, take one fearful look at me, and fly away to lay eggs and raise chicks and outfox the fox.
but she never did. and i continued to crouch -- dazed, as if i myself had hit the window -- until my brother arrived and pronounced reality.
"she's dead..."
immediately, i called my brother. there was just no way i was going to bring my poor pathetic vegetarian self to do the deed if it should need to be done. i suppose i could have snapped her neck if i really needed to, but was afraid of how it might have affected me to know i killed an animal as lovely as a pheasant. i called my brother, then i went outside.
i crouched down in front of her and, reaching forward, touched her wing. no movement. i stroked her soft feathers with my hands, and could already feel little warmth. her neck looked crooked, tilted unnaturally to one side, her eyes were halfway closed and had the glazed look of death. as i sat crouched in the cold of the morning, i reflected on the loss of my dog tiger. i recalled how i had looked at tiger, how i had been almost unable to recognize him as a dead dog, how similarly lifelike this bird seemed to me, as if she would suddenly arise, shake her feathers, take one fearful look at me, and fly away to lay eggs and raise chicks and outfox the fox.
but she never did. and i continued to crouch -- dazed, as if i myself had hit the window -- until my brother arrived and pronounced reality.
"she's dead..."
Saturday, December 9, 2006
straight lines
everything here is in straight lines or ninety degree angles.
if you were to fly over the state on a plane, you would look down and see a series of squares, like a chessboard. this effect is, of course, created by the highway system.
the highways are straight and flat. people here like that.
predictable…
a man who works for the highway department was actually quoted as saying,
“anything out of a straight line, and you have an increase in accidents.”
what about all the people who lose interest driving in a straight, flat line and lose interest, and veer off the road? what are the statistics here?
i suspect that straight lines are not as safe as the highway department would have us believe.
over eighty per cent of the people living in this state are white, married, and christian.
most south dakotans eat meat, attend church on sunday, and stand and sing when the high school band plays “god bless america.” south dakotans believe in “thinning out” animal populations by sport hunting, artificially increasing those populations on “conservation land” to increase sport hunting, preserving fetuses, killing terrorists, fishing, football, flag day, factory farms, ranches, slaughterhouses, and round-up-ready soybeans.
starting when we are born, we are taught to think in straight lines and ninety degree angles.
but straight lines and ninety degree angles do not exist in nature.
and sometimes people notice that.
but all too infrequently.
it seems.
one hot morning in arizona i began to walk in a circle for hours until i felt the straight lines start to fall from my body. during that time there were never any knocks on the door. if the phone rang it would be a wrong number, so I would walk.
every morning at 5:30 i would walk, sometimes run, in circles and then come home and fold and curve my body until the straight lines began to bend into shape. i would sit in meditation with my dog and pray and know that god was there and that he was freer and wiser and stranger than anyone who’d ever had their mind straightened up could know.
if you were to fly over the state on a plane, you would look down and see a series of squares, like a chessboard. this effect is, of course, created by the highway system.
the highways are straight and flat. people here like that.
predictable…
a man who works for the highway department was actually quoted as saying,
“anything out of a straight line, and you have an increase in accidents.”
what about all the people who lose interest driving in a straight, flat line and lose interest, and veer off the road? what are the statistics here?
i suspect that straight lines are not as safe as the highway department would have us believe.
over eighty per cent of the people living in this state are white, married, and christian.
most south dakotans eat meat, attend church on sunday, and stand and sing when the high school band plays “god bless america.” south dakotans believe in “thinning out” animal populations by sport hunting, artificially increasing those populations on “conservation land” to increase sport hunting, preserving fetuses, killing terrorists, fishing, football, flag day, factory farms, ranches, slaughterhouses, and round-up-ready soybeans.
starting when we are born, we are taught to think in straight lines and ninety degree angles.
but straight lines and ninety degree angles do not exist in nature.
and sometimes people notice that.
but all too infrequently.
it seems.
one hot morning in arizona i began to walk in a circle for hours until i felt the straight lines start to fall from my body. during that time there were never any knocks on the door. if the phone rang it would be a wrong number, so I would walk.
every morning at 5:30 i would walk, sometimes run, in circles and then come home and fold and curve my body until the straight lines began to bend into shape. i would sit in meditation with my dog and pray and know that god was there and that he was freer and wiser and stranger than anyone who’d ever had their mind straightened up could know.
Thursday, December 7, 2006
sunshine state
so why is south dakota called the sunshine state?
i'll admit last summer was rather warm (for south dakota), but i moved here from arizona, and i don't understand.
it's damn cold.
i used to come home from work to my tiny apartment when it was 106 degrees, jump in the pool, and sprawl out in the sun. this morning as i was walking from my car to the school where i work a co-worker commented on how nice the weather is.
it was 2ยบ.
damn.
i'll admit last summer was rather warm (for south dakota), but i moved here from arizona, and i don't understand.
it's damn cold.
i used to come home from work to my tiny apartment when it was 106 degrees, jump in the pool, and sprawl out in the sun. this morning as i was walking from my car to the school where i work a co-worker commented on how nice the weather is.
it was 2ยบ.
damn.
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