Think of the Animals

 Mr. Mustache decided to try to die, yet again. He's King of Statis, bless his heart.  

I knew it was bad when they had me go to the very back treatment room (you know the one - where they do procedures and perform surgeries) to talk to the vet after they took Mustache's x ray. He was Not Right. He had what looked like a blockage, smack in the middle of his digestive system. Too low to reach from the top, too high to reach from the bottom. Not surgically fixable. The vet, who is an absolutely lovely, kindhearted, and extremely talented vet of many years' experience, said she'd do what she could. 

And she performed a miracle. She pumped Mustache full of fluids and meds, and got his guts working again. He came home, disgruntled and fur askew, but alive and kicking. Good boy, Mustache. 

I am glad that he did not spend the day like I did while he was in treatment: worrying and wondering what to do with his companion Smudge, if he died -- should I take her to say goodbye to him? Would she understand? 

To fret about a small animal, to whom you cannot explain things, and for whom all you can do is pray and hope to minimize their suffering, is a special kind of Hell. 

Sometimes, I am not sure why I even have pets. All they do is break my heart. 

Perhaps, though, I continue to have pets because when they are safe and warm and fed and content, and have all that they need and want, I know that I have molecularly increased the amount of happiness in the world. God knows the world needs it. 

If they are happy, then perhaps I can be happy too. 

-----

For the past few days, terrible wildfires have raged throughout large portions of California. I have hardly read about it, because the destruction is so severe, and the scope of the tragedy so immense, that it is Too Terrible To Contemplate. 

Every now and then, though, a snippet of footage crosses my news feed on some form of social media. Endless flames. Seaplanes scooping water out of the ocean. People putting masks on their pets to walk them outside, because the air is not safe. A kind soul donating his entire collection of Squishmallows, so that children who have lost everything have something soft to hold. 

Poetry from devastated souls speaking in front of the crumbling ashes of their homes: 

I hope houses go to Heaven.
I hope it didn't hurt [when the house burned].

And the animals. Oh my God, the animals.

Posts from rescues and farms, indicating how much room they have for displaced pets of all kinds. Offers to transport animals free of charge. People turning their horses and donkeys loose, in the hopes they will somehow make it to safety. Exhausted skunks. Raccoons. An owl who was rescued, though her feathers were burnt so she could no longer fly. All the creatures. 

We cannot explain to them what is happening. They do not know. The level of fear and panic is unimaginable. 

I could barely stand one rabbit in stasis. I cannot even think about this level of Terrible. So much in ruins. 

God help them.