Ruger

Have I become hardened? 

I'm fumbling with my purse as the weight of the cat carrier drags my right side toward the floor. I slowly and carefully make my way out the door, trying and failing to keep the carrier from hitting the screen. It is evening and the wind slips in at the bottom of my jacket, leaving a thin ring of cold at my midsection that bothers me to no end. But there are more important things to do right now.

I make it to the car, gently and clumsily lay him down in his carrier in the passenger seat. I'm in the drivers side, pulling away from the curb and off towards the freeway.

The sun sets behind me and the world falls into the familiar eerie silence so peculiar to Monday nights.

I miss my exit. Stupid googlemaps!

I'm thinking about his tearing eyes, his quivering voice; his pain is too much to hide, too much to bear...and the gurgling wheeze coming from the passenger next to me.

I take the next exit, loop around back onto the other side of the freeway. Zoom off the correct exit and proceed to take another wrong turn.

I'm in a quiet, dirty backstreet that reeks of illicit activity. Little bunches of people littered across the sidewalks, creeping in the most ostentatious, vulgar manner.

I'm sure this next road will get me back on track.

I've never been in this area at night before. How strange to know I will be coming back here again tomorrow for work...

I see the rust-yellow sign for the animal hospital pull up suddenly on my right. Parking is around the corner on a street only slightly less occupied by the creeping, vulgar bodies. I zip up my purse and pull out the carrier as gracefully as I can, hurrying towards the dingy light of the hospital.

Its nicer inside than out, but there is a smell of surgical gloves and cleaner combined with a constant shrill barking from the back rooms. It brings back hundreds of memories that I immediately feel myself pull away from.

Oh dissociation, you wonderful tool.

Filling out the forms I can't help but feel a little ridiculous. I've only known you for two and a half hours, little fellow. But here I am claiming ownership, taking your whole life into my hands.

And you're ever so sweet about it. Purring and gurgling as your tiny, perfect nose leaks pus.

Waiting is to be expected, and its not too long. The lady at the front desk sprays some cleaner in a room with a glass window looking into the waiting area and ushers me in with my carrier. I fumble with my belongings again, trying to push my mental haziness away so I can coordinate my actions properly.  Beams of emotion and sensation hitting me from every angle...

Where is the balance? Too much or too little input; its dysfunctional either way.

 I stand next to him, petting him, soothing him, as the tech probes him. I take him in and out of the carrier, letting him roam around the room and look for exits. He stays calm. Happy to be warm and cared for, even on a cold metal table. The vet examines him. He notes a tag on his ear that indicates he was a stray brought in to be fixed before being released again. The vet's face displays a detached sort of pessimism. He is in very bad shape. Probably a virus. Maybe he could get better with enough care, maybe not.

We should test him for feline leukemia and aids. Its more money then I planned to spend. I feel the sharp tug on my heart in various directions as I try to make the decision. The haziness presses in around the edges of my thoughts...

I think we better do it. An impulse more than a decision. Regret, anxiety, uncertainty as the tech takes him to the back room. Ten minutes and we will know. I stand next to the carrier and wait. I take out my phone and do a few extra things for work, all my feelings humming in the background behind a thin layer of fog...content, expecting nothing to come of the test.

Bad news, he says. He has tested positive for feline aids.

So.

What is the next move?

Poor, poor Ruger!

Are the shelters open? No.

I've already named you, already added you into my life. But only sort of.

How long have I known you now?  Three and a half hours? What was your life like before you interrupted our late afternoon walk, thin and shivering and desperate for help?

Content,  eagerly eating a can of tuna and curling up in my lap. Warm and purring as you wheeze.

The vet seems just a little too enthusiastic about killing you now...

I'll take him to the shelter in the morning. Back in the carrier, sweet fellow. I will take you home and love you for a little while before you die. Oh you precious creature.

I pay.

My phone flashes with a text. The place you're at can't take him?

Desperation. Pain.

They could euthanize him for $85. Should I do that?

Please, I can't take it.

Ok.

The tech lifts the carrier out of my arms and silently moves into the back room. I'll bring your carrier back out in a minute.

Thanks.

He is back in a minute. Hands over the carrier.

Goodbye then.

Goodbye.