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