Last night, just a little past midnight, Death paid me a visit.
It came with the barks and howls of my two dogs just outside my room while I was preparing to lay down for the night. At first, I thought, it might be some drunken idiots wandering outside. I turned out the lights and peered out the window. No one in sight.
My next thought was a snake, since one of my dogs was well-known for her snake-hunting experience. But I also knew, from direct experience, the way she barks when a snake was found. No, it was not a snake. At least, it didn't sound like she found a snake.
Soon, the other dog joined in with the hunt. They circled one of our mango tree, occasionally clambering up its lower branches to no avail. I could still not see what they were tracking, so I decided I should go have a look. After all, with all the barks and yelp, no one was going to get any sleep tonight.
Grabbing a long pole and a flashlight from inside, I switched on the exterior lamps and walked out to the front yard. The mango tree the dogs were circling wasn't all that tall, perhaps a little more than 4 meters high. Maybe 5. Still, its crown was dense enough that the flashlight had a difficult time scanning through the foliage. The dogs kept on barking, so I decided to use what I had in hand.
A quick smack of the pole against some middle branches revealed the intruder: A tabby cat, two and a half meters up a tree. From the stiff pose and arched back, I could tell she was scared.
For me, I sighed with relief. At least now I know I won't have to deal with any snakes. But as I took s moment to get s white cloth and some handy leather gloves, the kitty took off.
Bounding across the road and the grassy field, she darted like a bullet with two enormous missiles trailing her every step. Before she could even reach the fence, my two dogs were on to her and thrashing her like a rag.
I could hear them fight as I rushed to the corner of the yard, the long pole in one hand and a flashlight in the other.
...I didn't know how long it lasted. Hell, it could have been just ten seconds for all I care. But the end was all the same.
The tabby cat laid still on her back, amidst a pile of rocks the dogs had dragged her on to.
After managing to beat back the two dogs, I put a cloth around her and lifted her onto the fence. I knew it was too late. She didn't move at all when I lifted her. However, she was still pretty warm, after all she died just a few seconds before I could reach her. Just a few seconds before I could lift her to safety. Just a few seconds more. If only a few seconds more...
And that was when the realization hit me.
Death isn't something that comes and go as he wishes. Death is always with us, watching us from behind. When we wake up, Death is at the door. When we eat, Death sits right next to us at the table. When we walk, Death follows in our footsteps.
And the funny thing is, Death doesn't care what we do to make him stop.
It's a funny thing to be witnessing Death doing his job right before your eyes. And quite another, perhaps even funnier still, when this is not the first time that happened. Back then, it was a dove whom, upon escaping our uncertain grasp, hit its head upon the window frame and fell to its death with a broken neck.
It was a funny little death back then, and certainly now things were not that different.
As I laid the motionless body of the tiger-striped tabby, the realization dawned in my numbed brain. It's a grand reminder to myself, and hopefully all of you who are reading this one day or another, of how insignificant life really is.
Every minute, someone or something dies. This is what I know is true, as that morning I was just at a funeral service of an old friend of the family. His death was sudden, but not unexpected. After years battling cancer, Death was a friend who did not go back on its promise. And that night, almost 12 hours after the cremation had began, Death came to take another with it to the other side. The man that morning was a friend of the family, yet I found myself more deeply moved by witnessing the death of a stray cat battered and broken by a pair of powerful jaws.
Witnessing Death do his works gives you a funny little outlook in life, as you could see from what I've written. People die everyday, somewhere in the world. And yet, in the face of this truth, we continue on as if nothing really happened.
In spite of its death, the world continues on.
The world still spins, not even slowed in its perpetual motion even by the slightest. The sun will still rise in the east when morning comes. Frogs will continue to sing their annoying tunes to the dance of the fireflies. Birds will wake up at the crack of dawn and fly out in search of food for their chicks. People will stir from the ringing of their alarm clocks and go about their business. Cars will blare their horns at each other in the craziness that is rush hour. Planes will take off and land as accurate as clockwork. And the sun will set again at the end of the day.
Everything goes on like nothing really happened. Perhaps, in truth, nothing really has.
And that's the way it is.
Despite all that, I was still compelled to carry her remains to safety and laid her to rest in a small cardboard box. Putting her just out of reach of the two dogs standing guard just out of reach, I retired for the night. But I knew I would not sleep easily that night, realizing I could have saved her if I was just a bit quicker on my feet, a bit more forceful with the hold on the dog's collars. A little bit more power behind my grip to buy her enough time to climb away to safety.
That was then, this is now.
I caught myself wondering while trying to wash away the heat of battle. I could tell just by looking she was female, but not really sure how old she was. Perhaps a little over 3 years, maybe a little more. But definitely still a young tabby. She could have been looking for food, perhaps trying to find a mate. I caught myself what her kittens would look like if she was lucky enough to start her own litter. I wondered if I would be lucky enough to find her again later, alive and well.
But that is a future unattainable in this universe. Perhaps, if parallel universes were real, there would be one where she escaped unharmed. She would certainly have been able to raise her young and teach her kins not to graze into this area.
Perhaps, a story for another time. At least now, I can sleep easily, knowing her story would not be lost to oblivion.
- - -
Sorry for the long post, I had to get this out of my mind or else I couldn't sleep. Typed it up last night after said event, nearly falling asleep on the laptop afterwards.
This is, in fact, a true story. I contemplated about posting this up in the Flying Stone Tavern, but decided it was better treated as a writing exercise than a simple rant.
On a lighter note, now I have another base for the story I'm writing. Whether or not it'll make print before Christmas is another story.
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I don’t know if anyone has read that little book, but Strunk is quite…adamant…about the word “not”.
