Humans: the so-called more advanced being

This is not a writing exercise.

We hear of such cruelty in the world that over our lifetime we find ourselves somewhat hardened. We've seen it all. Something that fascinates me is how humans seem to be the only animals that hunt when our stomachs are full--not to store away for a rainy day, but to display for years to come. We torture for pleasure--usually not with death as the intended result. With our so-called advanced brains and abilities we come up with some of the most heart-wrenching things to do other humans, and perhaps even more unimaginable, to the innocent animals who cannot speak, only scream, cannot fight back, only take it.

There is a local news story that has saddened me the past few days; one that took place in Southeast DC. Southeast has two parts--tourists are more familiar with the respectable and highly valued Capitol Hill and Eastern Market areas of Southeast...but there's another Southeast, where if you're new in town, all you're told is to stay away from there if you can and to certainly not live there if you can afford better. It's where DC's poorest residents call home. And, the quadrant that has long been made out as the face of the area's violent crime. Well, a few days ago in Southeast, a call came in to the humane society that a dog had been found, near death, wrapped in a duck-taped trash bag. What the investigators found upon arrival was truly horrifying. They found a pit bull--an animal that too often never has a chance to experience happiness--with half of its face destroyed from dogfighting, and a body so battered that it appeared dead.
The news camera panned out to the bystanders just standing there. I became angry at all of them. They knew who did it, maybe they stood around watching it happen, maybe one of them complained about the amount of blood that had been left. I wanted one of them, someone to say something. But if people are too frightened/cowardly to "snitch" when their fellow man is lying on the ground dead, how can I expect them to come forward to say who facilitated this act upon a dog. It's just a dog. Imagine having so little regard for the suffering of another life form?

Well the pit was rushed to surgery and yesterday evening the news reported that she was recovering. Even after experiencing a trauma that I only hope it can't remember, the dog managed to wag its tail as one of the workers spoke sweetly into its almost nonexistent ear.
Tonight however, there was an update. Her condition is guarded, she's lethargic and not doing too well. I imagine her little body just endured too much. This sweet-natured dog that was summoned into physical being only for the purpose of being tortured for entertainment. Its usefulness over, having lost a fight I imagine, discarded like trash--but not just ordinary trash. They duck-taped the bag to ensure that this life form didn't escape, couldn't breath. And we call ourselves the more advanced species. The species that can tell right from wrong.

Something kept this dog alive. Its face was meant to be broadcast. I doubt that the whoever did this has a heart or even watches the news to know that the trash was discovered. No one will tell because it's just a dog. So what was the reason that it survived long enough for someone of an elevated moral character to find it, then contact authorities? I say it was so we could look into the one good eye it had left. That dog's eye told me that it had a soul. There was a spirit inside of it that endured great pain, but remained "awake" for unknown reasons.

Souls are souls--whether the body they inhabit walks on two legs or four. What bleeds can feel pain at the loss of it; what has a brain processes information; what's "born" grows; what has eyes sees. I know that it's too much to ask that people who don't even care about themselves, somehow find the ability to care and spare another life form unjust agony; but still, I often wonder what this world would be like if people actually treated others the way they would want to be treated. If the people who pull out their cash and wager on a blood sport could, for a moment, imagine themselves being made to fight to their own deaths; imagine how long one minute would seem if their flesh was being ripped away. Would they still be able to lick their lips in anticipation of watching two animals kill or be killed?

Writing is healing for me, it allows me to free myself of burden, hurt, and confusion. This post has helped somewhat. It's not just about that one dog, I know there are thousands of others being brutalized right this minute. I know there are humans being tortured right now, innocent men on death row, hungry children, the horror goes on and on. There's nothing I can do about it, I know. But when I see things like this, I feel both grateful and frightened. Grateful that I was born a human with all the "privileges" of being at the top of the chain; but frightened of the capabilities of those I sit next to on the trains; who I speak to each day. I live amongst people who are capable of inflicting (and enjoying) pure, unabashed evil. That's what a society is I suppose-- you have the good, the bad, and the ugly. I'm good, along with millions of others. But the thing about the bad and the ugly is that they are contagious--whatever they have spreads.

I am thankful that my soul can recognize the importance of what I see when I look into eyes that look just like mine. I see energy, the ability to love, fear, sadness, pain, all things that compose a spirit that is much like my own.