Yesterday I saw a dog jump off of a 7th-9th floor balcony. She was flipping out because a lot of dogs were out playing in the park, and she really wanted to play. I was sitting in the park, watching Ripley play, and I remember sudden silence and knowing that it was not good. Then I saw something black (I knew somewhere in my million and one thoughts that it was a dog) sailing through the air and going down. I actually saw her silhouetted against a perfectly blue sky. Then I heard the bang when she landed. My brain didn’t want to believe that it was a dog that I heard and that I had seen. I started over to where I knew we would find her either crumpled up and broken or dead. What we (me and a few other people who noticed, or gave a shit), was Esther a black lab mix, lying on the ground with her eyes wide open, no emotion or soul in them anymore, breathing very shallowly and rapidly, and as I touched her to check her breathing and to attempt to comfort her, she died under my hand.
I’m thinking and thinking and thinking about her, and I’m trying to process the horror of seeing her against the sky. I am feeling a combination of intense grief, anger at the owners who did not have a net or barricade on their balcony, nausea, stomach knots, and screaming inside. She also made me think of the video footage of people who had jumped out of the towers on 9/11 in the States. They kept fucking playing the images of the people flying through the air, and now I have to think about that all over again.
My most irrational thought is that I have a permanent cloud of death hanging over my head that is not causing people to die, but means that I will constantly be losing the people important to me. I won’t get the luxury of living a nice, long life with everyone, and I will be grieving people for the rest of my life. Yes, it’s a very egocentric way of thinking. That’s The Crazy talking.
I really, really, really love my puppy. She’s not going anywhere.