This is definitely beyond what I’m comfortable writing about, maybe because it really exposes who I am as a person, but the meaning’s slightly changed since it happened -probably because I’ve been re-watching and re-reading all the movies/books of the hunger games.
It only shows of myself of a coward, of something useless, of something so incredibly helpless. I mean… in some ways, it’s showed me that I’m opposite of those traits; something much more positive and strong, but those were not exactly what sparked the revolution if you know what I mean.
I could’ve brought her to the hospital sooner. I know that if I had only just ruptured up the courage to do it the day before, or if I didn’t think of all her symptoms as part of “getting old”, maybe there would have been a fighting chance.
She seemed optimistic. Her bright eyes, and her appetite were normal. She made me feel safe, but some part of me believes that maybe that was just part of being the animal that she was conditioned to be in nature; prey. The way that she would attempt to pretend as if everything was alright makes me think that she might have been doing it for us, and just realizing afterwards was not okay.
I was scared of her.
That was not okay.
The way she would suddenly jerk or suddenly run around, bumping into all the corners of the cage, and then losing her balance and starting to squeak for help.
I want to say that I tried to comfort her.
I want to say that I was there by her side.
I couldn’t bare to watch her do all of that, to look into her eyes and see that they were listless, to see her have no control over her actions.
I was scared to send her to the hospital alone and handle paying for it and bringing her home.
Why was I scared of her?
Why couldn’t I be more scared for her?
We did eventually bring her to the vet, only to hear that she is in pain, has lost 13% of her body weight, and will be gone the next day. We were given some options…. to euthanize her at the hospital or to give her a shot that would free her from any pain for 24 hours. I was told that I was a good owner.
I couldn’t accept that and I wasn’t sure why they said that to me. Maybe it was to make me feel better…
Maybe the euthanasia shot was the better choice, but I wasn’t sure if letting her die in the hospital was the right decision, but I was scared of bringing her back home and seeing her die there.
The doctor suggested that she get the painkiller shot, and that we could take her home to say our last goodbyes.
I couldn’t disagree, but maybe it was because I felt guilty of how I felt before or what I did before. I wish I knew what would be right for her, but it’s impossible.
So we brought her home and put her in a clean cage. She began kicking soon after, with her head looking like it was suffocating under the giant pile of bedding on top of it. She was on her side, her eyes wide open, kicking and jerking vigorously.
I knew because I was there.
We were all there.
I was crying and wiping my face on my t-shirt because part of me didn’t want to leave. I wanted to be there for Carrot.
My cousin, who had just come from China and my sister were also by my side, and I also felt extremely bad that I had to get them to see Carrot struggling like that. I guess I wanted to stay, but I went to the park instead and played badminton with them.
It made me happy again… but very temporarily. I mean….. It was two major events side by side; previous day: Arrival of cousins, and the next day: the Dying of Carrot. I felt extremely bi-polar.
Soon, I had no clue what to even feel.
When we returned, I saw Carrot lying very still. My dad was playing soft music in the background…. a practice he learned in his religious studies. He sang to her for many hours beside my mom, who felt that it would be right if she was there.
I thought she died. I was in shock.
Of course, I found out right before bed that the practice was only really applied to the dying as it’s aim was to help the dying die peacefully.
I couldn’t sleep more than a few hours that night. The mattress just didn’t feel comfortable. I woke up repeatedly, until I finally exited my room and went to sleep with my parents on their bed, which was really only big enough for 2 people.
There, I felt a sense of security, knowing that if anything were to happen, my parents would be there to protect me. I slept uncomfortably, but I still slept because I felt safe.
Everything will be alright I thought over and over again. The more I repeated it, the more it all made sense… but not quite yet… not that I could even try to put it into words just yet.
I woke up either at 5:30, or 6:30, having barely slept, and I went downstairs with my parents to find Carrot had passed away. Her eyes were nearly closed like she was sleeping, but I knew she would never wake up again.
I went to try to write her a poem, but with my depressed brain, nothing that I wrote was good enough for her.
I eventually did write something , that was made into a paper crane and is lying next to her right now. It’s still not very good…. but I had to write it in time for her burial.
Still, to this day, I don’t know if she died “the right way”. Sure, you could argue that everything that will happen is supposed to happen, but even so…. we should still assume responsibility right? What did I know was right anyways? I couldn’t think.
This intense feeling of empathy towards Carrot…. even if it wasn’t accurate, really led me to realize how connected everything in the world is and how harmoniously nature and the universe is composed. To be able to feel is a magical thing.
My aunts words that reminded me to look at the positive stuff, resonates with me today. It’s a common saying….. but that doesn’t mean it’s not true.
The type of magic I saw in living things, in all things really is the part that is miraculous and for that reason,
Dear, dear Carrot,
Who’s fur shined liked magic of life, of magic itself, and who was magic,
Rest in Peace.