Paraphrasing Newton’s Law at the start of this post came to mind, but I think I’ll forgo mixing science metaphors with mundane life. Instead, I’ll cite this one:

“Nobody ever did, or ever will, escape the consequences of his choices.” ~ Alfred A. Montapert

Five months ago, life changed forever when Cleo and Gyspy were assaulted by our neighbor’s dog, J. It was a traumatic day, as were the weeks that followed. The reminders exist everywhere that Cleo is gone; “Missing” posters are still up on telephone poles, bedraggled and crinkled from the elements, the kitty bed that sits empty day after day. Bayou and I rarely talk about Cleo anymore; it’s just too painful. We know she is out there, somewhere, and we have no idea if she’s ok, if she’s cold or hungry. The possibilities are finite and full of unpleasant permutations.

While Bayou was in South Dakota, on a non-descript September day, King County Animal Control came and took J. I didn’t find out until the following Saturday. The entire week had been quiet, abnormally so, but I hadn’t been paying much attention. Between work and Bayou being gone, I was pretty oblivious to things I normally watch closely.

As near as I can tell, Vic tried and failed to stall the County with regards to J’s removal. Vic had told Bayou in August that he’d asked for, and received, an extension to find J a home. He’d said there was a Pit Bull rescue on Bainbridge Island that he thought would be a good fit.

Somehow, after finding out that J had been taken, I really believe that none of what Vic said was true. I think he thought he could delay them indefinitely, until the County got tired of pursuing the seizure action. I knew when Otto’s owners began their petition drive that Vic underestimated two things: A) how determined they were, and B) how universally reviled Vic is in this neighborhood. There isn’t a person in this close-knit community that hasn’t been disturbed by Vic’s music, dogs, or screaming fights with his girlfriend. I don’t think it’s an exagerration to say that some of the neighbors who signed the petition were thinking “Finally, this asshole is getting what he deserves.”

While Vic may have been punished by the loss of the dog he clearly loved (despite how much he neglected him), J paid the steepest price of all. I don’t know when he was put down, but surely he was destroyed soon after being taken away. I can scarcely stand to contemplate it; the entire saga is nothing but sad and painful.

And it’s all the bitter, burning fruit borne of choices. Our choice to let the cats out and play. Vic’s choice to not police his dogs. Otto’s owners decision to pursue the legal remedies available. Vic’s decision to ignore or stall or outright fail to place J. I suppose it was naive of me to think Vic would ever do the right thing by finding J a new home. It is beyond my ability to understand someone so selfish that he’d condemn his dog to death with inaction.

I think it will always bother me, no matter how much time passes. I will never escape the consequences of Vic’s choices. None of us will; but I hope it haunts him daily -as it does me and everyone else involved- for the rest his life.

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