Rustysporkman

Within the past few years, my family has had to put down two animals: Lizzie, a dog, and Sophie, a cat. I loved both of those pets so much. Just so damn much. For both of them, I was told after-the-fact that they were gone.

Lizzie was old. She suffered from seizures for so long her mind had gone. One day I woke up at around eleven in the morning and just as I rounded the banister to go downstairs, my parents walked by and said they had put her down. The last thing I remember doing to that dog was tackling her away from a chicken breast she had already half-eaten. Sure, I kept telling myself that I'd START being nicer to her – I was a general shit to her, since I'm a teenager and have a low tolerance for things not being perfect – but I never acted on it. Now I'll never have the chance to look her in the eye and tell her I love her, even though her mind has gone so far she wouldn't know who I am.

Sophie wasn't nearly as old as Lizzie. She was probably a year old when we got her, and I was in first grade, so eleven years? She still had time yet. But we keep our cats outside during the summer, because they CAN be outside then. Last fall, when we began paying attention to the cats again (It's too cold in winter to let them out for anything more than relieving themselves), we noticed her tail wasn't moving like it should, and she smelled of urine. Somehow, she had broken her spine during the summer. Her tail was limp and she had no bladder control. The vet disinfected her crotch and prescribed antibiotics, but that was all we could do. One day, on the way home from school, my dad pipes up that they had her put down.

I told him, while trying to keep down tears, that I hated the fact that they kept putting down our pets without at least letting me know it was the last day I'd see them. I felt like I was six and my parents had sent them "To live on a Farm." I had no control; I had no chance to say goodbye. If I had known Sophie was about to be put down, I would have let her sleep on me one last time, even if my shirt would be stained with piss. I wouldn't give two shits about it, because I loved that goddamn cat. If I had known Lizzie was about to be put down, I would have demanded to have a few last moments with her.

Louis is a fifteen-year-old Alaskan Malamute/German Shepherd mix. He and I are littermates: He lets no one but me sleep on his side, he comes into my room when he's scared, and he lets me pet him when he's eating. No one else in our family can say any of that. I love that dog more than I love most people. He's arthritic and has some benign growths on his chest. He has Ocular Occlusion, which is fatty growth on his eyes. He is definitely not a puppy anymore.

But I will not let him be put down without me right there. I will not sleep in late, I will not stay home, I will not opt to leave the room. I will be there with him right until the very end. I don't care if I'm at college on the other side of the world: I. Will. Be. There. Because Lizzie and Sophie were pets; I loved them, but they were still animals. There is no way on God's Green Earth that I will let my best friend go into that Good Night without me being right there to assure him that everything is okay and that he will always be my dog, my best friend, and my littermate.

I know you can't read, Louis. But I love you. I'll always love you. And I'll be there for you. I promise you that. Even if I can't tell you what happens after, I promise you that.

This gets a bit... rant-y at the end. Sorry.

So I just had an epiphany. Well, not specifically an epiphany, as this is the second time I have had this thought:

The universe is awesome.

Now, you're probably thinking "Rusty! Of course it is, everything awesome is in it!" But that is not what I'm talking about. What I'm talking about, Willis, is the jaw-dropping concept of an entire galaxy existing, the jaw-droppingly beautiful formations and colors that are made by stars and quasars and galaxies, and the simply, magnificently perfect shape that is made when a sphere is lit from the diagonal.

Whenever I think about space, I get glassy-eyed. It's just so wonderful. And it makes me think. How can someone not love it? How can we be caught up on such petty things like sex, censorship, and war? How can someone be awed by a burning bush when there are things in the universe that make it pale in comparison?

And then I fall from the heavens. I remember what people are. The reason we get caught in petty things is the same reason why mind reading would suck and why twitter exists. Everyone thinks he's an intellectual, but 90% of what everyone (including me) thinks is utterly... useless.

'i wonder if I left the oven on wow shes hot id like to do things to that maybe the steelers will win tonight i hope they do because i want to win that bet with dave god dave hes such a bastard but his wife is hot id totally love to do things to that sweet thing god im hungry i wonder if ihop makes dinner would they just make waffles for dinner instead of pancakes'

That's it. Hunger, sex, and hobbies. That's all we ever think about.

I hate how I can't just bury my head in a book and pay attention to it. I always start thinking of completely different things, and then catch myself a chapter later, and I have no idea what I just read. I hate that I can't do homework when I'm not in "the mood," because I can't seem to cram any more knowledge into my head because I can't get the thought of that miniskirt I saw on the cute girl at the coffee shop out of my head. I hate that, when I finish an explanation about something complicated, the person I'm talking to me simply blinks and looks at me like I'm the stupid one.

Seriously? All you can manage to pay attention for is, "Well, it's funny you asked that, because" and you're gone. You have the attention span to follow things like "I'll have a number 2," "Dig that ditch," or "Hey, let's screw," but you can't be bothered to pay attention to someone when he's describing how AWESOME Beowulf is?

I hate it. I hate it so much. I wish I were an astronaut. I wish I could just sit and stare endlessly at space, from space.

But I know I'd get bored. I'd stop thinking about how intricate the Andromeda galaxy is spinning and start thinking about how I may have left the oven on, how good the Steelers are doing, or how hot some girls are. No matter how hard you rage against the machine, you can't break the chain. You're still a part of it. You're still limited by it. You're still as petty as everyone else.

I'm still a part of it.
I'm still limited by it.
I'm still as petty as everyone else...

So why try?

So, every couple of Thursdays, my school has "Common Essay Day." Every student writes an essay about a common theme. The essays are anonymous save for Student ID's, and are graded from 1-6. Once a year, the essays are not from the normal CED curriculum, but the UVM-sponsored "Vermont Competition for Excellence in Writing program." I was chosen for the semi-finals, and had to compete against the best Freshman, Junior, and Senior in my school.

The Sophomore essay (Each grade had a different prompt) required me to write a description/short story or other thing about a picture given to me. My picture was "The Babe Bows Out." ashley1441.files.wordpress.com…

So I wrote. I thought I didn't do well, and that the other competitors did better than me. Turns out, I'm now representing Lyndon Institute in the competition. I get to skip school for an entire day. Whoo!

A student at my school died today. He had been turkey hunting early in the morning.

I didn't know him. Not well, at least. I knew his name and his face -- I wonder if he knew mine? I sat behind him in assemblies. He seemed a fun guy to be around.

We're just so frail. A stray bullet, or a big fall, and we're gone. But it makes room for more people. If no one died, there would be no new ideas.

We got out of school early today. A lot of people were crying. I didn't really feel anything but tired. I want to go take a nap, but it's too bright outside. It's cloudy -- it's always brighter on cloudy days.

I wonder if I could have done something to stop it? Every little thing in this world is connected. The butterfly effect and all. He was shot on a street perpendicular to mine, but probably a mile or two away.

I'm frightened, too. My father and brother just recently got their hunting licenses, and are planning to go turkey hunting this weekend. I don't think I want them to.

Sorry to dampen your moods.

At my school, there are a lot of dorm students. So there are a couple dorms. Naturally, each dorm needs a chaperone for the students. Most of the "dorm-parents," as they are called, are teachers at Lyndon Institute, my school.

There was one guy, who we know as "V," who was a substitute teacher. He was awesome. Each class he substituted for, he'd just show magic tricks to the students. I know how to flip pens, hide quarters, and all manner of tricks now because of him.

So, yesterday, he was caught with Child Pornography. A student found some files on the school's network or something, and they were traced back to him. Our headmaster and the disciplinarian had a talk with him. He confessed to it. He'd been looking at it daily since February. Out headmaster makes a point to keep his students informed about all the happenings at LI.

So... yeah. That's exciting.