Life and Death

On my way home this evening, as I came up the stairwell to my building, I noticed a small pink thing on the first landing. Upon closer inspection I realized it was a baby... something. Possibly a dog, but I couldn't tell. But there it lay, right in the center of the path, the poor little pink thing.

Then I realized this tiny little being was breathing.

Shallowly.

I thought I couldn't leave it right there in the middle of the walk where it was likely to be stepped on, but I also wasn't wanting to bring it into my house. What would I do with it? I have no way to care for a newborn... thing. And as much as I'd like to think it was a dog, what if it wasn't a dog? What if it was diseased? And what would I do except prolong it's suffering?

So I decided to move it. As I reached out and picked up it's tiny cold body, it twisted and curled in my palm, and I moved it to the side of the walk- where another neighbor might see it and have a better idea of what to do with it than I did.

Still, as I came up the stairs I felt wretched. I held the life of a creature in my hand and I cast it aside. That little being is going to die tonight. And it's suffering. And there really isn't anything realistic I can do about it. And I feel awful.

I read something once about people with emotional disorders- the lack of ability to empathize with animals is apparently high on the list. I guess I'm glad to know that this isn't my problem, still, I feel really really bad that I've touched this small life and can offer nothing more. Not even a quick death. Instead I walked away.

I feel awful.