Blaming Myself

My pastor and some other people I knew told me that i blamed myself for too much. That I took on troubles that I didn’t cause or I’d take all the blame when there was lots of blame to spread. I always saw it as turning the other cheek or the first shall be last and the last first. I thought I should take responsibility for what I do and let others take their own responsibility. I think there is some sound reasoning there on my part but….

Now I see what he and others were trying to tell me. I know what happened to George was not my fault. You see, not only was his waist band tired around that fence, but it had been broken or cut in two. Once I untangled him, it was in two pieces. The cable going through the band had been severed and George clearly did have dark red blood under his fingernails.

But I keep going through it over and over in my mind, could he have somehow wrapped that cable around that fence that way? He could have when we first moved here because he could fit into the links of the chain link, but he was too large now. He couldn’t have got through there and even if he did, that alone wouldn’t have caused his death. He was already dead when he was put into that position.

None of it makes sense and I tend to be very objective. Why would someone do that, risk taking the time to tie him up to the fence, giving us more time to walk out the door and stumble upon them doing the horrible deed. That makes no sense. But how that waist band got that way AND severed makes even less sense. There is just no way it could have been accidental and if it was, it wouldn’t have killed George.

His jaws were still full of rice, If he had died of natural causes that would have come out but if someone grabbed him tight enough to prevent breathing then no, it wouldn’t have. I thought when I saw that someone had hit him in the head with a stick. George wouldn’t normally allow anyone to approach him without calling out to Jessie and I. They would have had to strike fast or maybe coax him with a banana or egg. That MIGHT work. I felt of his head several times and his whole body everything felt normal.

Nothing makes sense. I know the police officer was thinking the same thing based on what Jessie told me he said. But it was just really hard to deny the way that waist band was wrapped around the fence. I took two pictures of it. I don’t want to look at those yet but I’m glad I did it. Jessie did it, she said “take a picture so we can show them what they did to our monkey.” She’s not as vocal about it, she’s always the more quiet type but I have a hard time letting go. I have a hard time not blaming myself.

So now Rick, I know what your talking about. Renee if you’re ever here I know what you’re talking about. I’ll try to post pictures tomorrow. They are not gross or anything, all you can see is part of his back. I wish I had taken pictures of him laying on the concrete, that’s what I keep seeing. After I got him off the fence, I laid him there and went to the police station.

When I came back he was still there. I picked him up and cuddled him like a baby. I don’t really remember what happened after that, if I laid him down or gave him to Jessie. I know I should have taken care of him but I can’t even remember what I did and I’m not ashamed of my pain.

George was one the coolest, best things that every happened to me. There are people that are more important in my life, even my X wives were cooler at one point. Jessie is far more important. It sure feels good when she walks up and gives me a hug.. She notices I’m off in a trance and she knows what I’m thinking about.

Usually when I’ve lost a pet I don’t want another one, but this time I really do. He was that cool but probably will never have that chance again. I sure don’t want a monkey to go through the pain George did at some point. I don’t mean his death, I mean whatever happened to him to cause the scars and broken bones.

People go out and catch wild monkeys from the jungle, I don’t want that AT ALL. I felt bad because we only had one and George needed a partner of his own kind as there is no way any human could give him as much attention as he really needed. He needed another monkey. Maybe he would have never become so close to us if there had been another though.

I also wish I had kept his waist band. Jessie isn’t as vocal but her pain is there. She has that normal human desire to get even, but she usually doesn’t do that. I’ll try to put those pictures up of how his waist band was. I’m glad I have the pictures so I can have a reminder of how there is no way.

See, even here I blame myself for not giving George more but George was thriving. He was probably close to three time the size he was when we got him. i didn’t realize that until yesterday when I realized he could no longer go through the fence. He wouldn’t have been growin like that if he was not reasonably happy. I worried about the stress captivity put on him and tried really hard to make him feel safe. I think I did that but still I doubt.

Tagged with: Filipino Monkey • George's Death • Pet

Filed under: Cebu Experience • Life

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