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gratuitous violence?

I feel terribly guilty. Yesterday morning, by train, I watched my kitten in the cage in front of me who looked around with curiosity: "Where are we going?" seemed to ask. We arrived and there were vetrinario by a dog who was shaking like a leaf, and another cat red devil. As I watched them I wondered what could pass for my cat's head in that situation.
smelled of medicines and the place was rather antiseptic. The only note of color were a couple of books about dogs and cats. Even the paintings on the walls were black and white. He will realize it? cats see colors? or just the contrast?
For two minutes I was alone with him in the waiting room. I put the cage on his knees and I approached her face to his Musina. I stroked the nose and paws and told him to do good and I'd come back soon and get it.
Then came our turn, we came in and within two minutes I was out alone, without too many pleasantries. Basically it is a interventino really easy, I thought to myself. But as I walked home the guilt started to pervade. Got home I cleaned the bowl and placemat, I changed the bedding and clean the floor. I find that all good back home. But this did not make me feel better. I spent the day wondering "will have it already done?" as if deep down I hoped to be still in time to stop everything and take it back as it is. A cat healthy, happy, and full capacity of his instincts. I kept telling myself it's for his own good. In this way he will not suffer being locked up at home, will not want to run away, will not end under a car ... But that, apart from our love, what's left? Perhaps without castrate living outdoors, even in a big city like this would have been happier. He lived less likely, but what counts for an animal? What you can make it really counts? Make him a thing is not grim violence against a defenseless being? is not simply selfishness? Of course, if I had not got in the house at this time could already be dead. Could andargli worse, but maybe even better. I feel an incredible Magone, a heaviness that hurts.
Why do I feel this way? With the other had been different, I lived as a routine, something that was done and nothing more. No guilt. At the bottom is only a cat. A cat in a week or two will have already forgotten about it and will never know What has been lost, what would live and what emotions he could try. What emotions felt by cats? I have hated between yesterday and today?
When we went to take it back was still groggy from anesthesia, but his eyes ball as if he had drank a jug of coffee. During the ride in the car emits faint mews. I was crying my heart.
got home probably hoped to return immediately to normal, but there vetrinario advised to leave it in the cage a little more 'for pass anesthesia completely. Attached to squirm to get out and meowing a lot ... but never as strong .. as if you can not do.
kept thinking that the day before jumping in around, playing with the ball ... and now it was there. I had ordered to be sick. I wondered who was the beast among us. After a while 'is quieted. With the claws protruding from the cage. Resigned.
We liberated, finally and quietly went around. The we put the water bowl. And 'course towards the bowl meowing, probably hoped to food. Mamma mia, but it is possible that such a thing to give all this trouble? Or become hypersensitive overnight?
We went to bed and I had horrible dreams that I do not remember at all.
At 6 and a half woke me up meowing. I gave them the soup, which was devoured in 2 minutes, and I went back to bed.
Shortly after I reached and is nestled on my pillow, with his head in my hair, as usually done. Finally, it was purring. I will be forgiven? Or will not even really understand what happened? Maybe I am not associated with pain that he experienced. Maybe not even tried a lot of pain. I do not know. But surely no longer be as before. And it is my fault. I have taken something that belonged in law and that nothing can give him. I betrayed her trust.

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War Piero

continues in the wake of the grim of my creations ....


When he awoke, That morning, he felt that his head was about to explode, and struggled even to look around. Pierre remained with his eyes fixed on that shapeless head who was sleeping peacefully in bed next to hers. He closed his eyes hard, concentrate and counted as "five .. four ... three ... two ... one ... ... .. ". He opened his eyes. No, it was still there. Amazingly whole.
But how the heck did not explode? It was not possible. It went against every physical theory.
Light filtered through the cracks of the shutter down just showing his profile disproportionate. The face was so swollen that the blood vessels and veins protruding from the skin, creating a horrible branching red and purple. You could not see. Piero could not see. He hated with his whole being. Was ruining his life. Fourteen years of stupid jokes and jokes, laughter malignant behind. And why? It was not his fault! Was normal, he!

the head Piero still sounded the last episode yesterday. That idiot in the 3rd, who was standing behind him with those two goons who always brings out below.
"Ah Ah .. but how does he put his shirt on your Hunchback of Notre Dame? We must cut the collar in all of them! "
And the other two who laughed with him. What bastards. But before they baked? Perhaps sooner or later would stopped. Sooner or later everybody will end up to crucify him. For what? To have a deformed brother.

Piero Dad understood how she felt, or at least it seemed so. I read in some of his looks embarrassed. When everyone came together to hear people's eyes on him like him and then looked at him. Smiled and put his hand on his head to rub his hair. Then he looked at him, she put an arm around her, but her smile slightly as you turn off to try to accept an immutable condition, a perpetual pain that burdened the heart. Loves him. Or at least that's what he believes Piero. How could it be otherwise? It 'still his son. But sometimes the expression his face seemed to curse everything. Life, God, himself and even his wife, a woman he loves, but that helped give birth to a similar twist of fate.

Mom instead apparently not realizing it. For she is a boy like any other. And 'his son. Only her son. How do you turn a blind eye? Never mentioned to his failure as a real problem. Perhaps it is the fear that the balance of imagination and perfect little world that has been created as a house of cards collapses. He speaks as if the problem was in the eyes of others. And if she was right? If they were all the other monsters?

also hoped that morning Piero died. Now happening more often. Could not stand the situation. Serena, who is the curly red in her class did not want to go out with him. He said he was afraid to come to his house. The impression was .. his brother. ... Enough is enough! He wanted to go out on top and not be ashamed anymore.

Piero, lying on its side under the covers, staring with a hard stare, evil. He imagined a thousand ways to change everything. Sometimes she thought of killing himself. He could throw it under a car, or accidentally dropped him while he was a hairdryer in the bathtub. Every so often dreamed of showing how the clown in It, Freddie Krueger or some alien they did X-Files out for him. At other times of imagining far away, in a place where nobody knew him. Where no one could ever connect it to be so gruesome. You could see the tropics in the sun with a beautiful girl at his side, or New York, amid the skyscrapers of Yankies jacket and a tumbler in the hands of some strange drink that is usually swallow the Americans.

Piero was still staring at him. He stood up. He slowly the two steps that separated him from his bed. He opened his eyes and his eyes meet those of Piero. Twitched, as if the face of Peter, so close to his, he had frightened. She looked at him long. His eyes became bright. Suddenly embraced Piero's shot and shrinking strong whimpered "I'm sorry ... I did not ... I did not want to be born ...."
gradually loosened the close and he collapsed on him. Piero had the knife in his hands was stuck to the bottom of the stomach. Bled in silence. Piero was speechless with his mouth open with a blood stain on his pajamas that grew wider.
yelled.
Mom and Dad ran from them. Dad took him away and weight. Then the ambulance. The mother pulls him crying: "Why? Why? "
Everything Piero could say was: "It was not me. And 'he threw himself on the blade. "