Possibly my last lj entry
I know it's not like its anything important new that I haven't been posting much lately. In fact, I have been avoiding this place... and anyone I considered a friend. But... there's something that I thought that most of you should know because it was a large part of my life.
Pups Velasco was put down at 8:20, July 27th 2006.
Last night, he went into a seizure and failed to really recover from it. He would walk around in circles and then finally couldn't walk anymore. He couldn't even drink. When I brought him into the vet that morning, I held him in my arms because he couldn't even move his back or front legs. I'm not quite certain how many of you have held a limp, whimpering animal in your arms before... It's a feeling that you do not wish to go back to remember, but sticks inside your head forever anyways.
When I looked at him that morning, there was no real hope of him coming back to us over the weekend.
And I left him there.
That was the last time I'll ever see him.
And that vision... that photographic, precise, vision... of him lying in my arms...
I thought about everything I hated... and hated them even worse at that moment.
All those fuck ups who's lives are thrown away, the emo kids who fake their depression because it's fashionable, the rich kids who do drugs because they think they're bad ass ghetto for doing it, the underage kids who drink to prove something, the women who kiss other women in a pathetic attempt to get attention, the men who objectify and rape women, the wife beaters, the corporate shit heads that feed children crap into their heads to become sluts, the ultra liberals who shove sticks so far up their asses that they won't listen to anyone's opinion because they think they're right and know what's best for everyone, the politicians who lie with empty promises, the people of every race that perpetuate their own stereotypes instead of bettering themselves, the stalkers who are too pathetic have their own lives, the celebrities who act like gods and the fans who treat them that way, the artists who claim they know art but instead pervert and ruin every culture they sink their greedy hands into, the people who make fun of others they don't understand, the people who spray paint cuss words and gang symbols on walls that completly ruin the image of what that place could potentially be, the people who fail to empathize and become unclutured, the jack asses who vandalize for fun, the people who capitalize on popularity from the tragedy and death of others, and anyone who allows themselves to be held back.
For each and every single one of them, I thought about smashing their faces in with a hammer and hearing the familiar noise that sounds like boots stomping on wet pavement as each time my arm falls. I wanted to rip the flesh of their cheeks out with my bare hands and break my way past their nose to their sludgy brain.
This was all because none of them deserved to live. And for the fact that they should keep living while an animal that never hurt anyone, that never meant to cause harm, that only wanted your love should die. I wanted them to take back their lives so that this one could keep going on.
I remember when my dad first first brought him home to us. A mail carrier bringing home a dog. It was hilarious. This little guy explored every room in our house and during the first night, it was afraid of the dark and being alone. I took him into my room because I felt so bad for this small scared creature. I carefully set him on my bed and he snuggled into the blankets, burrowing in and creating a nest of sorts.
Many times I would play with him and for some reason, he felt like he always had to protect us. My brother would pretend to fight me with the vaccum cleaner and Pups would attack it, knowing full well that it could harm him back. There were a couple times that I knew I was in trouble with my parents, so I always carried Pups around so they wouldn't spank me.
We treated him like a baby prince almost all the time, carrying him, feeding him, or bringing him out on several occasions. My oldest sister was quoted as saying that we cared for him more than her children. Which, to a certain extent was true, but not really. He always ate well, and was never hungry. There was always someone there to give him anything he wanted. Although his favorite food was cheese cake. That was the only time he tipped over the trash can, was because we had cheese cake that night and we gave him a little. He tipped it over in the hopes that there might be some left on the paper plates we used.
Towards his later years he was very much like the Sphinx. This wise old creature that would overlook everyone because he was at the top of the stairs lying down.
My one real regret though... is that I haven't spent all that much time with him at the end. I was too busy studing and preparing to graduate, interning for a production company, working at the comissary, and never at home. I always saw him at night when he was asleep. I feel horrible that I can't go back and just hang out with him for the last couple times.
Which brings me to my next point:
My previous lj entry.
I wrote that when Pups had to go to the hospital the first time. My aunt was also dying. My Uncle and cousin also died the previous months before. These aren't distant relatives either. These were people who at one point or another took care of me and lived with my family. These people were close to me. When I wrote that I thought that I came to the realization that everyone around me was going to die, it was partly happening at that point.
This year has just been really bad and I was thinking about people I knew. I never sent out any e-mails to anyone because I am still in the process of writing them and telling people exactly what I need to tell them. It was in part to celebrate me turning 21. Rather than drink myself to a drunken stupor, I decided that I would take a moment to look back and reflect what I had been doing... living for this entire time. To do that, I had to understand relationships that I've had with people.
So, in due time, every one of you who reads this will eventually recieve and an e-mail from me.
To finish this... I can't possibly blame anything on his death except for his own existence because he was quite old. This was really his time to go on. He had a great life and I'm glad that I'm one of the people who could give it to him. If there's anything you want to say to my family it's velascofamily@hotmail.com
Thank you for reading this all the way through.
Pups Velasco was put down at 8:20, July 27th 2006.
Last night, he went into a seizure and failed to really recover from it. He would walk around in circles and then finally couldn't walk anymore. He couldn't even drink. When I brought him into the vet that morning, I held him in my arms because he couldn't even move his back or front legs. I'm not quite certain how many of you have held a limp, whimpering animal in your arms before... It's a feeling that you do not wish to go back to remember, but sticks inside your head forever anyways.
When I looked at him that morning, there was no real hope of him coming back to us over the weekend.
And I left him there.
That was the last time I'll ever see him.
And that vision... that photographic, precise, vision... of him lying in my arms...
I thought about everything I hated... and hated them even worse at that moment.
All those fuck ups who's lives are thrown away, the emo kids who fake their depression because it's fashionable, the rich kids who do drugs because they think they're bad ass ghetto for doing it, the underage kids who drink to prove something, the women who kiss other women in a pathetic attempt to get attention, the men who objectify and rape women, the wife beaters, the corporate shit heads that feed children crap into their heads to become sluts, the ultra liberals who shove sticks so far up their asses that they won't listen to anyone's opinion because they think they're right and know what's best for everyone, the politicians who lie with empty promises, the people of every race that perpetuate their own stereotypes instead of bettering themselves, the stalkers who are too pathetic have their own lives, the celebrities who act like gods and the fans who treat them that way, the artists who claim they know art but instead pervert and ruin every culture they sink their greedy hands into, the people who make fun of others they don't understand, the people who spray paint cuss words and gang symbols on walls that completly ruin the image of what that place could potentially be, the people who fail to empathize and become unclutured, the jack asses who vandalize for fun, the people who capitalize on popularity from the tragedy and death of others, and anyone who allows themselves to be held back.
For each and every single one of them, I thought about smashing their faces in with a hammer and hearing the familiar noise that sounds like boots stomping on wet pavement as each time my arm falls. I wanted to rip the flesh of their cheeks out with my bare hands and break my way past their nose to their sludgy brain.
This was all because none of them deserved to live. And for the fact that they should keep living while an animal that never hurt anyone, that never meant to cause harm, that only wanted your love should die. I wanted them to take back their lives so that this one could keep going on.
I remember when my dad first first brought him home to us. A mail carrier bringing home a dog. It was hilarious. This little guy explored every room in our house and during the first night, it was afraid of the dark and being alone. I took him into my room because I felt so bad for this small scared creature. I carefully set him on my bed and he snuggled into the blankets, burrowing in and creating a nest of sorts.
Many times I would play with him and for some reason, he felt like he always had to protect us. My brother would pretend to fight me with the vaccum cleaner and Pups would attack it, knowing full well that it could harm him back. There were a couple times that I knew I was in trouble with my parents, so I always carried Pups around so they wouldn't spank me.
We treated him like a baby prince almost all the time, carrying him, feeding him, or bringing him out on several occasions. My oldest sister was quoted as saying that we cared for him more than her children. Which, to a certain extent was true, but not really. He always ate well, and was never hungry. There was always someone there to give him anything he wanted. Although his favorite food was cheese cake. That was the only time he tipped over the trash can, was because we had cheese cake that night and we gave him a little. He tipped it over in the hopes that there might be some left on the paper plates we used.
Towards his later years he was very much like the Sphinx. This wise old creature that would overlook everyone because he was at the top of the stairs lying down.
My one real regret though... is that I haven't spent all that much time with him at the end. I was too busy studing and preparing to graduate, interning for a production company, working at the comissary, and never at home. I always saw him at night when he was asleep. I feel horrible that I can't go back and just hang out with him for the last couple times.
Which brings me to my next point:
My previous lj entry.
I wrote that when Pups had to go to the hospital the first time. My aunt was also dying. My Uncle and cousin also died the previous months before. These aren't distant relatives either. These were people who at one point or another took care of me and lived with my family. These people were close to me. When I wrote that I thought that I came to the realization that everyone around me was going to die, it was partly happening at that point.
This year has just been really bad and I was thinking about people I knew. I never sent out any e-mails to anyone because I am still in the process of writing them and telling people exactly what I need to tell them. It was in part to celebrate me turning 21. Rather than drink myself to a drunken stupor, I decided that I would take a moment to look back and reflect what I had been doing... living for this entire time. To do that, I had to understand relationships that I've had with people.
So, in due time, every one of you who reads this will eventually recieve and an e-mail from me.
To finish this... I can't possibly blame anything on his death except for his own existence because he was quite old. This was really his time to go on. He had a great life and I'm glad that I'm one of the people who could give it to him. If there's anything you want to say to my family it's velascofamily@hotmail.com
Thank you for reading this all the way through.