I'm sitting here doing algebra.  More specifically, I'm finding solutions
to linear systems using the substitution and addition methods.  It's
late, about 2am, and I have school at 8am... and I'm not even halfway
through.  It's hot in the kitchen, so I open the door.  I close the
bathroom window and the swamp cooler blows the cool air out through the
thick metal screen door in the kitchen.  I put a chair against the door
so the door won't blow closed on any of the ferrets who look outside and
feel the cool air.  The kitchen door is near my neighbor's fence, and on
the other side of the fence are the dogs - the pit bulls, one of whom
took my Navi's life.
 
I have too much homework to do, but I stand at the door and watch.  The
hot air starts to blow out.  At the bottom of the door is a three-quarter
inch opening.  I've never seen my guys even remotely get their head in
there, but I am terrified.  I look at the dogs, smiles on their faces.
Just a few weeks ago their smiles were smiles.  Now their smiles are only
the result of the relaxed muscles in their faces, not really smiles at
all.  As I look across the fence at the dogs, Smokey wanders by my feet,
looking out the door.  I watch him.  He sticks his nose in the opening,
but soon loses interest.  Maybe I can sit down and do my homework.  I sit
down and copy the first equation, but it's only half-copied before my
eyes are drawn to the open door.  I can't do this; this is obscene.  I
feel like I am tempting fate.  It is cool enough, or if it isn't, too
bad.  Even though no ferrets could possibly have gotten outside, I open
the screen door, go outside, and take a look.  No ferrets.  Good good
good.  I do this ten times a day.
 
It is quiet and black outside.  The dogs are standing by the fence, glad
for my company.  In the quiet I can hear them pant.  They look for my
hand to come over the fence so I can rub their ears.  They don't have a
clue that anything's wrong.  I am angry and I am not angry, and I am
confused, and I close my eyes.  I want to hate them so I don't have to
just hate myself, but my tears come before I can clench my fist.  I want
this fixed, I want this to never have happened, I just want to go into
my house and see Navi sleeping on the dirty clothes, or in the bathroom
cabinet, or anywhere... so I run into the house like a little boy.  But
Navi's not here.  Smokey looks at me, and I look back, and I should be
happy to see him, but I'm not, and I try to shake it off, angry at each
emotion that takes a wrong turn.  I ask my wife to gather the ferrets and
put them up for the night.  All present and accounted for.
 
I sit down and do my homework.  Supply and demand BS, damnit; I have to
read to figure this out.  This equals that, substitute this, check that.
My mind takes a rest as it succumbs to the mathematical, but barely a
minute after sitting down, the dogs next door start to bark.  They bark
all the time.  I never used to hear it.  Now I hear it all the time.  My
neighbor has to keep the two dogs outside most of the time so the big pit
bull in the house doesn't hurt them - a brilliant plan I'll never figure
out.  I look out to see what they're barking about, but all I can see out
my window is one lone star.  Navi.  She's up there, watching over me.
And while I see just one star, I know there are billions and billions of
stars in the sky.  I think of the dogs and their lonely lives and I feel
compassion for them.  I think of all the other stars that I don't see,
all in the sky with Navi - from other accidents, from disease, from
neglect, from old age.  Ferret stars, dog stars, every kind of animal
stars.  I close my eyes and try to conceive of the tragedy of their
numbers, the tragedies we inflict and the tragedies we endure, countless
upon countless.  In my head, linear systems spin around and around and
multiply themselves into infinity, and infinity becomes the number of
angels who can dance on the head of a pin, and it all becomes
inconceivable.  And if I try to love one and hate another, the stars
shine just a bit brighter to let me know that it's not possible - they
are all just innocents.
 
I open my eyes.  All the ferrets are asleep, safely in slumber.  I open
the kitchen door and go outside.  I walk up to the fence.  It is still
black and silent, and the dogs are standing by the fence.  I look at
them and swallow hard, and then I talk to them.  I tell them that I know
that they were just playing like dogs play, and didn't know how fragile
ferrets could be.  I tell them how important Navi was to me, and that I
loved her very much, and that I'm not mad at them anymore, and that maybe
I never was.  The dogs stand there silent, panting, unknowing.  I choke
back my words, and then I reach over the fence and I rub their ears.  I
tell them over and over that it's OK, and that they're good puppies.
They both clamor for my attention.  This is what they understand.  I look
up at the night sky.  Navi is shining, twinkling, small speck of white in
a black sea.  I close my eyes and tilt my face up at the sky, and I hear
my own words whispered back at me.  I draw my breath in and then I let it
go.  I walk to the kitchen door, and into the house where everyone's
still sleeping.  With everyone safely in slumber, linear systems somehow
become clear to me.  I finish my homework in peace.
 
Roary
Albuquerque, NM
[Posted in FML issue 4889]