I’m composing this post at my public library, where I do most of the work for this website, because being at my apartment, where three of my best friends, Miss Kitty, Norma and Tinkerbell were stricken, is bearable only with sufficient distraction and only when there’s no other choice. I call it “Atrocity Central”. I especially want to be gone from there late this afternoon, when four years ago, deathly ill Tinkerbell was brutally attacked and killed by two veterinary professionals who said they did their “best” with an at-home euthanasia, while I stood by inexplicably paralyzed in silent agony and shock.
I recall this anniversary especially well because I’ve begun marking on a calendar the dates of deaths that I don’t want to forget and can’t bear to remember. I’ve learned to avoid the reminders of 
all three deaths when at all possible and how to endure those that must be endured. I’ve learned how to monitor my exposure to the reminders so that I remain somewhere between the negligence of forgetting and the paralysis of despair. This keeps me in the desired state of anxiety and discontent, knowing that traumatic events of this type continue to occur. This prompts me to continue serving to prevent them.
If my behavior in this regard is unusual at all, it may be only because of my awareness my response, because I think nearly every animal, one of which we are, is traumatized to at least some degree and responds similarly...avoiding reminders when possible and enduring those that must be endured in order to remain somewhat functional. The 
reasons I think this true is that when I’m out in public, away from and/or distracted from reminders of trauma, I behave as if I’m “just fine”, very similar to nearly all others I encounter. (That’s why I hate it when I’m asked “How are you?”. None of the responses are very appealing. I must either ignore, lie or tell the truth). Yet, I know trauma is so pervasive that nearly all of those people who behave as if they’re “just fine”, like me, are almost certainly traumatized to a significant extent. Allowing our pain to show serves as a reminder that can drag us back to the imagery and memories.
I intended this composition as both a commemoration and distraction. It’s been mostly commemoration because all it took to break the distraction was a glance at the clock on this iPad, which shows only a couple minutes until 4 pm, the time I mark as the beginning of the attack.
May you have what you need to endure your traumatic events and their reminders, and better yet, to serve to prevent them from happening to others.
In appreciation and hope-free service: Michael, of PEI
(Photos of Miss Kitty with Norma, Norma and Tinkerbell by Michael of PetEuthanasia.Info.)
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