I entitle these three sections as follows:
- The bat
- The kitten
- My atonement
The bat
Around 2001, I was living in a 3-bedroom flat with my roommate, a fellow Buddhist. We'd lived together for 3 years, without any kind of physical relationship. On a warm spring evening, she was working in the third bedroom, which she used as an office. Then she knocked on my door and said something was in her office. So I followed her and saw what she was pointing at - a small bat hanging upside down near the top of her window.
I kept an eye on it as she went upstairs to alert the landlords - an ancient couple who'd owned and lived in this two-flat since 1947. They had worked for the archdiocese for decades until they retired. So there we were: four religious people in one room, staring up at a bat and wondering what to do. I came up with the idea of using a colander as a kind of butterfly net to snare our unwelcome guest.
The two women left the room as the old man climbed up on a chair to shoo the bat in my direction. Sure enough, it started flying around the room, looking especially large because of my fear. It wasn't long before I trapped it, sliding a piece of cardboard over the top to prevent escape. I wasn't sure what we should do next, but the old woman said we couldn't release it outside because it would only come back. I assumed she was talking about some kind of homing instinct.
So the old man and I took the imprisoned bat down to the basement. There was a sink near the washing machine. We let the water run from its faucet so it would run through the colander, which I was holding. The idea was to drown the bat. I don't know which of the two of us came up with this idea, though I hope it wasn't me. It sounds too horrible even now, decades later, as I type this confession. I remember the poor bat screeching for its very life as the water cascaded through its cage. And yet, that wasn't enough to stop me from doing this evil deed.
For good measure, I totally immersed the bat, still imprisoned but now totally silent, under the water which had by this time more than half-filled the sink.
I held the colander in place for what seemed like an eternity. Maybe I was afraid the poor animal wouldn't be dead and would try to attack us once released. Within a few minutes, I brought the drowned bat up to the surface and laid it out on the counter top. Tears started to fill my eyes - it looked so small and helpless and beautiful, its black fur glistening from its soaking. The old man scooped it up and took it outside to the alley, when a garbage can of a coffin waited for it.
I didn't ask, but I'm sure the old man made sure the lid was secured so the bat wouldn't have been able to make its way back into his building - assuming it would have somehow come back to life.
The kitten
This sad mark on my karma began when one of my roommates brought a kitten home. There were four of us young men in our early 20's, all Buddhists, sharing this apartment. We got along reasonably well until the most recent addition to our household brought a kitten to live with us. I was highly pissed that he didn't ask any of us, in advance, if this fifth roommate would be welcome. Some people don't like cats and others are allergic to them. Some would insist that the owner swear up and down to take care of their pet - you know, like regularly cleaning out its litter box.
My irritation grew when I was home alone standing in front of a window, gazing mindlessly at the street below, when this kitten ran up behind me, took a flying leap, and dug its claws into my calf - clinging for dear life. I shook it loose, my anger at the owner spiking. Thinking about it now, I guess it's true what they say: "Animals know." The kitten probably picked up on my anti-cat (or anti-cat owner) attitude.
Not long after this incident, all four of us moved out - me being the first to go. A few weeks later, I returned to pick up a small item I'd forgotten. All of my roommates' belongings were gone - except for the kitten. It walked up to me slowly - limping and obviously starving, not having been fed for days or a week or... The owner had abandoned it in the locked apartment, not even having had the decency to set it free.
This is what I wish I would have done: After petting it and saying a few reassuring words, then going to a nearby store to buy a can of cat food and a bowl for water.
But, to my very great shame, I didn't do that. I thought to put it out of its misery by grabbing a plastic bag and putting the poor creature into it to suffocate. Kitten surprised me by putting up a heroic struggle. So I let it out of the bag and left. To this day, I can't say why I tried to kill a poor, defenseless animal. Maybe it had to do with a whole bunch of negative emotions that welled up having to do with why I had recently quit the Buddhist group of which I had been a member for two-and-a-half years. Many of my experiences with that group had been bitter - or at least bittersweet. Maybe that's why I took it out on this poor kitten.
Still, no excuse.
I later told an old friend what I did, trying to put positive spin by saying I at least let it live - hoping the owner would come back for his pet. My friend said, "Since your lease is up now, the building super will have inspected the apartment by now. As soon as he saw the cat, he'd have taken it to the basement to throw into the furnace. Supers hate cats."
My atonement
I am currently working on the form my atonement should take, and how you might be able to help. My idea is to, somehow, work out a way that financial contributions could be directed to a friend of mine in Minnesota who runs a shelter for cats. There are technical reasons why she can't use Pay Pal or any other type of on-line method, which I'll explain in a future post. I will entitle that piece "My Atonement" and link it to this post.
Hopefully, I'll post "My Atonement" within the next few weeks.
My friend lives in a small house in a rural community - alone, except for the 30 cats she's rescued over the last few years. I try to help her care for her fur babies as best I can, but as a retiree I'm on a fixed income. Still, when I was paid a one-time windfall of $12,000 by my employer of 31 years, I farmed it out to her over the last two years as expenses started to mount to care for her cats.
If I can help care for these cats, including veterinary care, I hope that will lessen my karmic retribution. With that goal in mind, I stopped eating meat over a year ago. And I pray for the bat, the kitten, and any others - including people - I've abused in any way.
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Steven Searle, just another member of
The Virtual Samgha of the Lotus and
Former Candidate for USA President (in 2008 & 2012)
Contact me at bpa_cinc@yahoo.com
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