The Greatest Gift, My Deepest Regret: Pepe’s
Final Gift: The Gift of GoodbyeI wish people would care as much about their children as I do
about my pets.
I never even planned to get attached to Spotty. I already
had one cat and had no interest in getting another. However, I agreed to hold on
to her took her for one of my clients because he was not permitted to have pets
while in foster care. That was 2002.
So even though I know that child
will come back for her, I do feel in someway I made a promise to a child that I
can’t keep. I aide a promise to Spotty that I have already broken. So I guess
this is goodbye again. And the only thing worse than saying goodbye, is having
to no idea what will happen to her. Omg… this is almost too painful to
It has been months since I posted the first “ad?” trying to find a
home for Spotty. I thought for sure somebody, anybody, would be willing to hold
onto to her for a couple of months.
Yest here we are 4 months later, and
I have to live with the fact that I am now “that” person. The person who
abandons their own children, or leaves an animal behind when the move. I am
I have already done the research. There are very few”low
kill” shelters in Tennessee. The fact that they even classify them as “low” kill
makes me want to throw up. But that’s the reality.
I really hate this
No one gives a
shit about the kids who are already here living in poverty, foster homes, on the
streets, or anyway the can to survive. So who gives a shit about a few people
who at least have the luxury of a quick painless death rather than having it
drained out of them day by day; tear by tear, year after year after year after
I don’t want to get rid of Spotty. I don’t want her euthanized when
I feel her little head nuzzled against my neck. She is not sick, she is not, her
only crime is belonging to me. What the fuck with this world. we can through
puppies into plastic bags and freeze them to death because it is “easier” than
“putting them to sleep.”
So yeah, there you have it. I fucked up again.
How ironic that the one thing I don’t have is the only thing people seem to want
from me. I can’t wait to hear about this one. I am 36 years old. I am not a
child. I am not a criminal. I am not cruel. I have no answers for you. I do not
have the resources that most people take for granted.
Why must they take
the one thing I love– the one thing that loves me. Does it make it all better
for everybody else? dad, I learned my lesson. I have accepted the hand I have
I’m not stupid, and I know that I can’t blame my mom for this
one since I’ll be the one to drive her to the shelter tomorrow.
fuck is wrong with me?
If I say I’m sorry, would that make it okay for me
to keep Spotty? Will someone please tell me what I need to say because I’m not
sure what I did.
I’m old enough to know that nobody is coming to save me.
I don’t even brother to ask but why must an innocent animal who did not ask for
this be the ultimate punishment for a sin I don’t remember committing.
where does Spotty go? To the farm with Abby & Ollie during divorce number
two and custody battle number 4? Will my father mail me some fake ashes out of
the fire place. Will my mommy drive her out to Suffolk County so she can use an
assumed name like “Harrison” so I can’t locate her? At least I found Pepe. I can
only hope that one day I’ll find Spotty.Special message to two “special” people: Mom, I hope some
takes Ziggy from you. The same way you took Pepe to that shelter in Suffolk
County during the darkest moment of my life. I remember what you said, and what
you were told by 3 separate mental health professionals. In fact, they remember
too, because they found the your actions to be so far beyond the scope of
rational behavior, they documented the entire thing. In fact, once Pepe was
located, they kept a copy of the “adoption papers” in my medical records both as
a precaution and as relevant family history.
whatever. I can’t think of anything care enough about to lose– so enjoy. You
win. I surrender. Whatever. I guess you’ll tell what I’m supposed to do because
that worked so well with my last Landlord.Why can’t I just live a life without empathy? I guess if you
don’t love anything but yourself, you will never know grief.
Well now I’m
really fucked, because I’m not all fond of myself these days. Don’t worry, you
don’t need to call parents, they already know, and they couldn’t care less. In
fact they’ll probably bill you for wasting there time. Besides, unless you went
Harvard, Yale or Princeton they don’t give a shit what you think. So join the
Just remember this:
Spotty didn’t chose me. I chose her. So here we go again… because apparently
there is not a single person I know who is willing to save
Actually, that sounds about right. I know exactly how she
Pepe’s Final Gift: The Gift of
Many years back I had the most vivid
nightmare, that 16 years later I can still remember the details of my worst
I am standing in a sea of unfamiliar faces.
There is violence everywhere. Red. Broken. Bleeding.
am holding Pepe, and he is broken. Bleeding. Clinging to me, clinging to life. I
rush through the crowd looking for safety. There is no way out. Just angry faces
in a sea of violence.
In the distance, I see two police
officers. I run to them believing they will help me find a way out of the
madness. Believing they will bring me to safety. A safe haven. Shelter from the
storm. Free from the madness. Free from the violence. Free from this sea of
unfamiliar faces so I can get my bleeding, broken, suffering friend the help he
needs to make him well. The help we need to be whole
When I reach the podium, the men were facing the
crowd. They were standing there, backs to me; they just stood there to face to
the crowd banging their black, wooden night sticks while on just standing there
Beating their night sticks against their palms. I call out but no one listens.
No one can hear me above the roar of the crowd. So I tap them on the shoulder,
holding Pepe close to my heart— hoping they will instinctively see the love and
fear in his yellow gold eyes. Of course, they would rescue us. Yes, they would
rescue us and bring us to safety. Free from the violence, free from the madness.
Free from this hell and take us somewhere safe. Somewhere far, far away from
here. And then they turn. In unison, they turn around to face me, and I look at
them. I am horrified. I am horrified because these are not police officers at
all. They are clowns. Literally, figuratively, in every way they are simply
clowns. Clowns in uniform. In unison. In unanimity. Inhumanity. My worst
nightmare. The cops were clowns.
Pepe was “only” a cat,
but I made him a promise that I intended to keep. I would give him everything I
longed for: keep him safe, keep him fed, make him well, I would give him love.
Lots and lots of love. Unconditional love. Always. Until the day my perfect
little angel would return to heaven. And I did. And he did. And we did. Alone,
together, Pepe gave me strength when I was too weak to care for myself. He could
not talk, but he sure tried!
After seventeen years,
Pepe died the other day, and my worst nightmare did not come true. I loved him
until the very end. Even then he gave me the most perfect and fitting gift. He
gave me freedom. He gave me comfort. He gave me hope and he gave me
I know that I can love. I am capable of
complete, total, unconditional love. He was like a child. Pure, innocent and
completely, totally, unconditionally loved. Yes, I am capable of love. I am
capable of complete, total, and unconditional love. Pepe, my precious angel, may
you rest in peace… There is a better place for you now. There always
retro post — see… you can hack but you can’t hide.
“I will not be ignored, I wil not be forgotten.”
~ELyssa Durant, Ed.M.
Elyssa Durant || Copyright 2011 || All Rights Reserved