Dr. Oz was on.
Somebody talking about nuts
Which ones were good for you, which ones were bad.

We were a rapt audience in the waiting room, each one of us happy for the bland distraction, but also sincerely curious. Something had happened in our lives that had changed us. We’d all crossed a line, moving from our natural selves to the types of people who now hoped if only they ate the right kind of nuts then everything would be okay. A woman leaving the clinic stopped and looked at me. Having noticed the oxygen concentrator on my back she abruptly said, “I HOPE YOU DON’T SMOKE!” I assured her that I didn’t, that I had quit, and as I was saying this the person who had accompanied her said– in a voice meant to convey to us that we should think of this woman as a child–“It would be great if you could quit, too, Beverly! Maybe this man can tell you how to do it?” And we all stopped watching Dr. Oz. We all stepped from our anxieties. No longer thinking of ourselves as people who needed to be helped, we thought of ourselves as people who needed to help. And in this, we were released. The grief that had hung in the room dispersed, and as if by saintly intent, we were left there, still and light for a moment, the tv flickering irrelevantly in the corner.

I have no idea why the guy brought it to me, other than to remove it from his sphere of responsibility, but it felt like a test. Here, I present you with suffering, what will you now do?

The squirrel lay in a blue recycling bin, ontop of some gravel and a piece of tarp. It’s body no longer worked the way it always had, and whenever it tried to heave itself into an upright position, it could not. Imagine the effort– the desperate and complete effort– it must have taken to do that, again and again and again. The eyes of the animal were terrified and dull, and it seemed obvious that it was dying.

I placed the recycling bin in a shaded place, and then brought out some water and nuts, hoping that over the course of the night it might somehow recover, or die as nature had ordained.

I woke up the next day to see that the animal had lifted itself from the box, travelled perhaps 25 feet, and collapsed on the street. It rose to 40 degrees that day. The situation had become worse, and I could see that my actions had been a feckless half measure, designed to make me feel better more than actually help the squirrel. If I had more courage, I would have killed the squirrel. Or I would have picked him up with my hands, wrapped him in a blanket and carried him into the cool of the apartment. I would have done more than the bare minimum necessary to excuse myself of moral repsonsibility.

It’s funny, when we’re on social media we appear so responsive to suffering, so brave. We stand in solidarity. We sign petitions. We boycott and shame. We make bold proclamations, as if calling troops forth to battle, our virtue and sensitivity shining like fires. But in the real world? When we’re actually called to suffering?

Well, I didn’t do much. My efforts were just enough to make me feel better, you know? I got the squirrel onto the grass, tried to shield it from the sun, and once again set out nuts and water.

As I sat at my desk I could see the squirrel through the window as it lay immobile, occasionaly spasming as it tried to right itself. Other squirrels were arriving, not to help, of course, but to take the nuts I had laid out. It was unbearable to watch, and so I called Animal Services.

They arrived, plucked the squirrel up off the ground with an elongated grabber, swiftly put it into a cage, thanked me for my, I don’t know, participation, and then left. And that was that. The animal’s suffering, the animal’s death, was no longer my responsibility.

Whatever the test was that I was given in the form of this injured squirrel, I am sure I failed. And I cannot help but think of myself online, up to my neck in this absracted reality where we’re all so certain we know what the good is, and how to accomplish it. But when I was literally handed a small opportunity to alleviate another creature’s suffering, my intercession was insufficient, and the unintended consequences of my actions had made matters worse.

I will try to remember this as I move through my days.

*****************************************************

Heidi head of pack security.

She a natural.

Heidi very fierce, think fast and so quick on feet it make you think maybe ghost in your head. Heidi so mean she make medicine sick. Death jaws can crush full soup cans. You think you can hide from Heidi? Wrong! Heidi smell all. You dig hole to hide, Heidi find hole and dig up hole, Heidi relentless. Heidi kill 6 mice and too many fly to count.

So, so many dead fly.

Chomp.

Fly dead.

Not know what hit them.

Heidi hit them, bro.

Heidi believe in freedom.

Heidi always on guard.

Heidi live free or die.

You should know Heidi pack now larger. Heidi job very important. There was summer litter in den. There is now new two-legger in pack with messy face that always need licking. Small and chubby. Can’t move, just fall forward and make bird sounds. Useless.

Little-legger only cry and bring attention to pack location. Always putting food at risk. Messy face make pack very soft target. Up to Heidi to be extra vigilant and do surveillance at back door. Heidi study shapes and shadow, bark at noise and charge like lion dinosaur to fight all intruders.

Serious stuff.

Biggest threat to security?

Squirrels.

Heidi hate squirrels with fury and passion.

Squirrels think they big shot because can dart quickly and tree fly, but not big shot! Just rat with bushy tail. Squirrel so stupid can’t even wag bushy tail. Just stick tail up in air like surrender flag! Squirrels, filthy, depraved and immoral tribe of cowards who will sneak into pack den and steal kennel or Captain Crunch cereal when napping after long day of guarding, licking and barking.

Heidi would kill every dirty squirrel in world and then wag wag wag tail as she watched them burn in hellfire for eternity.

But just to be clear, Heidi not bigot.

Heidi think all animal equal.

But squirrels evil.

Heidi just know the truth.

Heidi hate, hate, hate squirrels.

You don’t like it, you de-friend Heidi.

Heidi don’t care.

This squirrel on Heidi Most Wanted List.

Very, very fat squirrel. He grey, the colour of giving up. Heidi never give up. Heidi black like eternal night and tan like good suede. Heidi stare at squirrel. Mean, death stare. In this picture, taken by surveillance camera just before Heidi was about to attack, disgusting squirrel have boner. So gross and creepy! Squirrel boner worst thing in world!! And then squirrel begin to interfere with self!! So gross-out Heidi turn away to vomit, and when she do, fat boner squirrel go into Heidi den and steal Macadamia nuts from pantry!! MACADAMIA NUTS VERY EXPENSIVE!! Heidi don’t want to know what else sex offender squirrel do, but Heidi vow to kill sex offender squirrel!! Rip to pieces and make necklace from squirrel claws.

If you see this squirrel, report to Heidi immediately!

Very, very bad squirrel!!