I'm in the process of selling our vacation home and discovered our chimney was home to a family of raccoons. "What are you going to do with them?"
"We have to put them down. That's what animal protective services does."
"Are you serious?"
"No, that's what they do!"
I had heard enough. Their cries and their chattering were all I heard (and gotten used to for the last three days. ). All over the place--but today there was nowhere in the house I could go and not hear the pups and the mom carry on. I was devastated. I tried hiding in my bedroom listening to music, I tried getting on my computer. Hiding in the farthest bathroom. Nothing worked. I couldn't do it. I had to leave the house while they were being taken out.
The torrential rain sheeted, bucketed, you name it. I sought refuge in my car. There was nowhere I could run to. I ran out under the rain to seek solace outside the house, but because it poured so hard I could only sit in my car. I was relieved finally. And then I turn and see them stacked inside the cage. My heart was ripped out.
Why does life have to be so cruel? What or who determines what animals live and which don't?
I see my Maltese whom I love with all my being, comfortably snuggled in my bed after taking her bath and I ponder about life. Why?
