He cried like a little dog being torn apart
In the middle of searching for love seat slipcovers online, I was interrupted by a commotion next door. My neighbor was yelling, and then I heard the screams, the high-pitched shrieks of an animal in great pain. I jumped up and ran to my neighbor's fence. Still the screams and my neighbor scuffling and yelling "Jake!" Jake is my neighbor's dog who kills small animals (like my cat Denali) and bites humans if he gets the chance. I grabbed a plastic chair and looked over the six-foot wood fence. Jake was chomping over and over on a young male raccoon who was screaming like a small dog being torn apart alive. My neighbor was calling his girlfriend who was at work because he didn't know what to do. You would think, after owning this dog for several years and after this dog has killed or injured possums, raccoons, cats, and dogs, that he might have figured out what to do when Jake goes on a murderous rampage.
While my neighbor was off doing whatever, I yelled at Jake and banged on the fence, trying to get him to change his attention and maybe, just maybe, the young raccoon could escape. But I really knew that wasn't going to happen because the raccoon had been bitten too many times and there's just no coming back from that kind of severe, harrowing trauma. My neighbor came back and finally managed to get Jake away from the raccoon and into the house. The man was frantic and unfocused and wandering around, saying stuff like if he killed the raccoon to end its suffering that someone would call on him (me?) and he would go to jail. I offered my cat carrier so he could take the raccoon to an emergency clinic a few miles away that takes wild animals. But he didn't want to do that. He disappeared into the house and shut the door while the raccoon twisted and turned and lay panting on the wood platform where he was attacked. I stayed with the raccoon (on the other side of the fence) and held vigil while he died because I don't think anyone should die alone, human or animal.
I can't get his screams out of my mind. And to see someone die is heart-wrenching, watching the death throes with the eyes so distant, the body fighting the pain and the oncoming death, the labored breath, the entire collapse of a living, breathing being who just 20 minutes earlier was going about his everyday life, but who took a wrong turn and walked into hell. This will haunt me for the rest of my life because when you are part of someone else's death the power of that never leaves you.
I know many people think of raccoons as pests and dangerous rabies carriers, but I view them (and squirrels and possums and snakes) as citizens of this planet, deserving of life just like me. Every living being on this earth can be a pest to someone else, so who am I to say your death is nothing.
While my neighbor was off doing whatever, I yelled at Jake and banged on the fence, trying to get him to change his attention and maybe, just maybe, the young raccoon could escape. But I really knew that wasn't going to happen because the raccoon had been bitten too many times and there's just no coming back from that kind of severe, harrowing trauma. My neighbor came back and finally managed to get Jake away from the raccoon and into the house. The man was frantic and unfocused and wandering around, saying stuff like if he killed the raccoon to end its suffering that someone would call on him (me?) and he would go to jail. I offered my cat carrier so he could take the raccoon to an emergency clinic a few miles away that takes wild animals. But he didn't want to do that. He disappeared into the house and shut the door while the raccoon twisted and turned and lay panting on the wood platform where he was attacked. I stayed with the raccoon (on the other side of the fence) and held vigil while he died because I don't think anyone should die alone, human or animal.
I can't get his screams out of my mind. And to see someone die is heart-wrenching, watching the death throes with the eyes so distant, the body fighting the pain and the oncoming death, the labored breath, the entire collapse of a living, breathing being who just 20 minutes earlier was going about his everyday life, but who took a wrong turn and walked into hell. This will haunt me for the rest of my life because when you are part of someone else's death the power of that never leaves you.
I know many people think of raccoons as pests and dangerous rabies carriers, but I view them (and squirrels and possums and snakes) as citizens of this planet, deserving of life just like me. Every living being on this earth can be a pest to someone else, so who am I to say your death is nothing.
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