27.3 – A Mercy Killing

Marty woke up the next day and realized he had peed his pants, and was late for work.  It was tempting to not care about either one, and just go back to sleep, but one forced him to deal with the other, and before he knew it he was ambulatory, wearing clean clothes, and breaking free from the spell of the Rusty Bucket Ranch.  As the Apollo escaped from the jealous grip of gravity, Marty emerged from the dismal atmosphere of his torpor and rejoined the real world.  He felt more and more normal the farther away he got.  Coming out of that dark canyon and into the light again was a metaphor for the mind.  Oh shit!  I’m supposed to open the store today, he remembered with anxiety, and should’ve been there a half hour ago!  That left him very little time to clean all the animals and get ready for customers.  He drove as fast as he could without killing anyone or getting pulled over, which would have really made him late.

On the way, Marty pondered his resolution the night before.  Was it actually a conclusion?  He tried to filter some clarity from a blurry playback.  One thing he knew for sure – he wasn’t going to reveal this to anyone until he had definitely decided for himself.  If he wasn’t convinced, perhaps he’d talk it through with someone who would try to pull him back into the lifeboat, like Chas.  On the other hand, he reviewed, if he was sure about it, there would be no need to tell anyone – and in fact it might be foolish – because all they’d try to do is talk him out of it, after the only jury that mattered had already deliberated and reached a verdict.  When all is said and done, he nodded to himself while gripping the steering wheel, it’s my life and I can do with it as I choose.

When Marty unlocked the back door to Aquarium Beautiful there was an eerie, keening sound coming from behind it, as if a teakettle was whistling.  Once inside, it sounded more like a woman screaming hysterically in the back room!  He ran in and switched on the light, thinking there would be blood all over the place, but it was just Harvey the huge lop-eared rabbit.  He had gotten his foot caught between the wires of his cage and was twisted in a grotesque position; screaming like a teenage girl in a slasher movie.  (If you’ve never heard a rabbit scream, it’s quite unnerving.)  Looking closer, Marty grimaced to see the rabbit had completely dislocated his hip, and his entire back leg hung off sickeningly, the way a drumstick gets pulled off a turkey at Thanksgiving.  The rabbit’s painful shrieking wore the cover off Marty’s fragile nerves, and dug deep inside until it resonated with the suffering in his own brain, and he had to do something to make it stop right away.  On an impulse, he reached inside the cage quickly to avoid being bitten, and snap!  He mercifully broke Harvey’s neck with his bare hands!  It was the fastest, most humane thing he could think of in the spur of the moment.  Harvey didn’t struggle, and Marty kept his hands buried in the soft fur of his warm neck until he felt the life leave his body insignificantly, the way a small puff of air escapes a pillow.  It was so easy, and just like that – all of Harvey’s pain and mental torment were gone.  Marty’s shirt was wet, and he realized that tears were pouring down his cheeks from the horror of it all.  Life is cheap, living is expensive, but death is free!

His work day went by in a daze, as if nothing was important anymore but life and death.  There was a lot of either one at a pet store.  Cap’n Hook was improving, but Marty couldn’t get the mangled rabbit out of his mind.  Harvey’s litter box was still in the back room, and he opened the trash can where the body lay wrapped in newspapers.  With great sadness, he poured the litter inside, as if scattering ashes in a solemn Watership Down ceremony.  Marty remembered wistfully how the big buck used to hop all over the store and charm the customers, and hoped the poor little bunny was finally at peace.  Marge came in late, breaking up the dark episode of Mister Roger’s Neighborhood that had been forming in Marty’s head.  She knocked over a bird cage, and was either sick or hung over.  He knew his mom was supposed to quit drinking, but if she wouldn’t do it, nobody could make her.  He didn’t bother telling her about the rabbit.  She was so self-absorbed with her own guilt and resentment that she didn’t notice her fragile son was emotionally hanging on by his fingernails.  The hours passed slowly, even though they were kept busy with several whiny customers who were more anxious about taking care of their pets than taking care of themselves.  Mother and son performed their duties silently, professionally, like astronauts who couldn’t wait for the mission to be over.

All day long, the keening sound of the screaming rabbit stayed in the depths of Marty’s ears, reminding him of the aftereffects of a rock concert.  It disturbed him greatly that he had to kill Harvey with his own hands – he had spent much of his life caring for animals, and keeping them safe from harm.  “It was a mercy killing,” he reminded himself repeatedly.  “He’s in a better place now.”

Marty sought refuge in the dark aquarium room, and changed the water in a tank full of mollies and platys that had a common parasite called Ichthyophthirius multifiliis, or “ich” for short.  He worked without a light in the glowing darkness, as if he was floating serenely with the fishes in their artificial world.  Most of them couldn’t live for very long without being heavily medicated, which struck him as an apt metaphor for his own existence.  Then a new idea entered his consciousness: that was the way out!  Drugs!  Better dying through chemistry!  He dug through the box where he stored his fish pharmacopeia, but there was nothing that would fill his prescription.  What I need are sleeping pills, he thought, or a “black capsule” like they had in the movie M*A*S*H.