I have killed today. Honestly, it comes with the job description, but with death surrounding us it seems a little more poignant.
Upwind flew in with Max, his Griffionian Shepard cradled in his hooves. Judging by the amount of blood on the both of them, I knew it was serious. I helped Upwind get Max onto an examination table and I could already tell the dog was in a lot of pain. I gave Max a shot of sedatives and started examining him.
Upwind said that Max escaped from him while taking the dog out in his yard and Max ran off towards the Changelings. He said that Max probably just wanted to go say hi to the strange ponies. The Changelings shot him. He yelled at the Changeling for shooting Max and to his surprise, they allowed him to retrieve Max. He then flew to the clinic as fast as he could.
Max… required a miracle. The bullet shattered his collarbone and there was no exit wound, so both the bullet and bone splinters were lodged in his chest. I was surprised that something vital wasn’t hit, but I honestly only thought that because he wasn’t dead yet. There was a lot of blood lost and he was in a lot of pain. I doubt even Heartland had the surgical capability to remove the bullet without doing any more damage, much less myself. Even if the operation was successful, the recovery would be difficult and it was likely that his leg would be useless. Max would be suffering throughout it. There was no other option besides mercy.
As it always was, telling a pet owner that there was no hope for their loved one was tough. Some lash out and blame us, some insist that they can handle the struggle to care for them, only to come back a couple of days later when they can’t handle the suffering. Others go as far as to travel as far as Canterlot to get a second opinion. Upwind was understanding, saying through tears that he thought Max was dead the moment he heard the gunshot. At the very least, Max would die with dignity here with those who cared for him and not in the street at the hooves of the Changelings.
Then was the hardest part: Max’s last rites. Some ponies have a talent for talking for animals, and I’ve picked it up to a degree. Given enough time to get to know and connect with an animal, I can have a conversation with them. This wouldn’t be a problem if I had a pet of my own, but for the most part I’m dealing with animals I get to see once a month at most. I don’t have the time to do that with client pets. Fortunately, I have a bit of a short-cut. It is much easier for us to understand each other if we’re sharing a meal together. It is the one edge I have over Heartland, for as good as a surgeon he is, he doesn’t quite understand who he cares for like I do. So mercy is my duty.
At this point, Miriam had stuck her nose into the room. She had been curious about my job tending to ponies over these last couple of days so was wondering what I was doing now. It admittedly confused me about how calm she was watching me stitch up wounds, most cows panicked at the first sight of blood. Then again, for all I know she’s seen much worse when her barn got bombed. She’s been quiet about it and I won’t press the issue. Regardless, this was a more intimate process and she would only get in the way. And I didn’t want her to see more death. So I told her to wait outside and tell anypony who might show up not to interrupt us. She seemed to understand what was going on and left alone.
I then took a small can of wet dog food and split it onto two plates for the both of us. I also prepared the syringe for the euthanasia drugs for the final sleep. Setting Max’s plate in front of his nose to weakly lick at and having a bite of my own helping of sadly familiar meat scraps, I helped Max and Upwind take the time to reminisce. To help Upwind to tell Max how much Max playing with his foals meant to him. To tell Upwind that Max loved him and his family with his whole being. They exchanged the joys that each other brought to their lives. To help Max understand that his time was up.
But it was soon time for both of them to say goodbye. With tears in everycreature’s eyes, I injected the euthanasia drugs into Max. It wasn’t long before his eyes closed, and soon enough we felt the life, his spirit leave his body. I have killed an innocent. Another in a long list of pets, but it never gets any easier.
We usually help with burial, but the pet cemetery was on the outskirts of town so it wasn’t feasible. Upwind said not to worry about it, he would dig a grave for Max in his backyard. As he picked up Max’s body, I noticed the look in his eye. A cold righteous anger. I thought he might try to get vengeance on the Changelings for what they did to Max, so I told him to take care of his kids. I needed to convince him not to strike back at the Changelings. Him getting killed would do nopony good.
Upwind thanked me as he left and said he’d pay me back once he got home and got some bits. Because there were always bills associated with death. The medicine needed to be replaced, but how likely would that be once the Changeling took charge?
We’re low on the euthanasia medication. Heartland must have taken a bunch of it with him. How many ponies did he give the same mercy that I just gave Max? How many of our own soldiers has he killed? The thought of death is monstrous to most ponies, yet here we are. Murderers. Executioners. And here I am the cowardly killer, knowing the necessity of death, yet hiding from those whose deaths might be the most necessary. Fuck me, I don’t know what to think!