This is a diary about empathy, not about cats. Like Watership Down was not about rabbits.
Empathy is an essential component of humanity, and it is never more important than when it is exhibited by the strong for the weak and defenseless. The stronger one's position, the more incumbent it is to not only possess this quality, but also to actively engage it. There is a proportional relationship between power and the ability to do good, when good is defined as being alert to the circumstances of those less powerful, and acting in their interests.
And yeah, it's been brought on by my cat getting sick again.
Just a year ago, mrs kamarvt and I adopted a shelter Siamese we named Loki. This was a difficult decision in itself because our last kitten had met a horrible end when he got too close to the dog at feeding time. I mention this because a big lesson for me after that nightmare was knowing that, though we had failed in our promise as pet owners to provide Kiko with the life he should have expected, we had the choice to keep that same promise to Oreo (the dog). It wasn't about us or our feelings about what had happened. The situation required empathy for an animal that was still alive, still needed the home we had given him, and still needed our love and attention.
That was difficult at first. I could barely look at him.
So we signed Oreo up for training, and went to a series of classes ourselves. We learned a lot about pack behavior, most importantly that what Oreo had done was perfectly within the Law of Dogs, and the failure was entirely ours because we had anthropomorphized our animals. Over time we began to feel comfortable with adopting another kitten, as we had made a number of changes to our household that don't really impact the story I'm eventually getting around to.
We've had Loki a year now, and back in late March, right around his first birthday, he rather suddenly became very sick due to a urethral blockage. As is typical in cats, he masked the symptoms until he was critical. After emergency care, two weeks of bloody pee on the floor, and $1500 in vet bills, he was back to his old self, and everything seemed fine. Tuesday I noticed he was licking himself more than usual, but we had him on super expensive food and daily meds, so I thought I'd watch him closely to see if he was relapsing. I'm out of work right now, so I can do that, right? Besides, the vet assured me that recurrence in cats his age and breed were extremely rare. No other symptoms appeared until this morning. Suddenly, he couldn't sit, wouldn't eat, could barely walk, and was clearly in agony. Sure enough, he is completely blocked again, and would have died today if I had a job to go to this morning.
That realization brought me to tears. Big time. I called the vet and got him to the hospital, where he will remain while undergoing another $1000 at least of treatment. There is no guarantee this won't happen in another six weeks, so it looks like surgery to prevent having him die a painful death the very next time I blow off the first sign of a recurrence, or go back to work.
Why all this exposition?
Because of the promise I made to him when I took him in. Because of failing Kiko. Because, by my definition, that is what human beings do.
He is a small animal, entirely dependent on us for survival. I am a human being, and I cannot see suffering of the weak and make calculations about the economic wisdom of helping. It is within my power to get him the help he needs right now, so there is no internal debate at all.
Because I have empathy.
My earliest childhood memory is of trying to free a mouse from the clutches of the family cat, failing, and holding a funeral for it. I remember my mom telling me that made me very special, but I never believed her on that score. I can't fathom how anyone could feel differently when witnessing the strong dominating the weak. It is to me inhuman to be indifferent to that type of cruelty, let alone to actively encourage or engage in it.
That is what monsters do.
That is what George Bush did when he mocked the pleas of an inmate on death row, while signing the death warrant with glee.
That is what Dick Cheney did when he accepted the apology of the guy he shot in the face.
That is what a whole den of monsters did when they authorized torture while knowing it is a useless tool for getting information. "The purpose of torture is torture", said Orwell. He understood this because had empathy.
And that is what Willard Romney did to his high school victims, and what he did to his Bain victims, and what he did to his dog, and what he did to his primary opponents, and what he wants to do, looks forward to doing, to everyone he can if he fools enough people to get into the White House.
For all his millions, Willard Romney wouldn't even know if his pet was sick, would not notice its suffering, would not seek treatment for it more than once (if that) and damned well wouldn't feel one bit bad if it died in agony at his feet. He'd yell at the help for not cleaning it up faster.
Willard Romney, GOP nominee and the current choice of nearly half of America to be the next president of the United States, is a monster.