HOW MUCH VIOLENCE DOES MAN NEED?

JUAN

I have a friend named Juan. Juan is 5 years old and lives here in my hamlet. He goes to Los Pitufos School, located near Don Pedro's grocery store. He frequently visits us, usually several times a day. My sister always treats him very friendlily when he comes looking for her in order to tell her the latest news about his school or about his little sister, Valentina 3, who is also our friend. I try to make friends with them when I meet them outside or when they come to visit, joking with them, giving them advice, and teaching them something about my old-fashioned and ramshackle computer with Athlon XP processor and Windows XP.

I was, one day, outside of the house trying to catch my cell phone signal when Juan passed by my side running. From the distance, I asked him:

– “What's going on, Juan?

– “I wanna hit that bird with a stone.”

Days later, I saw him carrying a cord wrapped around a stone as in a sling and I asked him:

– “What are you doing, Juan?”

– "I wanna hit a bird with a stone."

UPDATES

February 10th, 2017: I was at my residence's door at about 6:00pm, when I was a witness to a scene that I couldn't help intervening into: it was little Valentina, Juan's sister, kicking little kitty, Mis, about 3 months old. I did what the moment dictated me, which was tell her not to do that and go tell her grandmother so she did what she thought had to be done. The lady scolded her and the little kid cried. Days later, I asked her why she had hit the poor kitty and she answered she wouldn't do it again. Sadly enough, not every time there's somebody to remind kids that they mustn't be animal abusers.

February 20th, 2017: through my window, I saw Juan kicking Mis. I got very upset and went outside to tell him not to do that and told him I was going to tell his grandma. He answered: “Grandma doesn't like cats.” He stopped abusing the kitty though.

Luckily, I had established a friendly relationship with the little kitty, so I could manage to get close to him in order to console him. I couldn't help crying when I tried to gently pat him because he got very scared believing I was going to hit him too. It struck my heart bad when he responded back with a little bite, signaling he liked me. When Juan's grandma came back from the grocery store, I reported the incident to her and she asked him why he had done that, he answered the kitty was eating his food. I was so upset that I reported the incident to Juan's mom too over Whatsapp, but her only reply was:  “Huyyy”/ “No.”

Latest update: I'm glad to report that as time has passed, I've seen positive changes in both Juan and Valentina, in terms of their attitude towards animals. I don't like to be conceited, but I think I have contributed to that change with my friendly preoccupation for instilling the feeling of compassion in both of them. It's one of the values essential to make somebody humane. It is actually a tool without which a person is notably impaired to navigate through life. I think compassion is the one value that has the capacity to change the world. If only there was a way to implant it in every human being's heart.

DAVID

There was a bunny rabbit that used to live in my hamlet's chapel. Since I never knew his name, let's call him David. He was as white as snow; with red, round, very round eyes; and very jumpy. Rumor has it that parishioners used to take care of him, feed him, and rejoice enormously at his elusive presence. He used to spend the days running around and brightening the landscape. He used to come about twice a week to visit us; and, like he was at home, he would come in with his best jumping style, searching all around, like he had lost something.

When Monísimo, my sister's orange cat, would see him so jumpy, he would swear and swear that he wanted to play; the cat would then start hiding to reappear in a leap and would then stay disappointed on seeing David keep on going with his quasi playing rush without acknowledging the deal was about him.

I would feel enormously proud to see that he was not scared of Monísimo or us and that he would always come to cheer us up with his amusing presence. Believe it or not, I would feel about to die from joy every time he made his calm and gracious entrance, while Monísimo repeated his playful ritual. Who could be more pleasant and peaceable than candid David!

A day came, that David didn't show up any more. When I asked what had become of him, I was told some children had killed him with a stone.

Let's face it: in the world that we have built ourselves, we humans spend our entire lives murdering David. Why are we are so evil?   

As consolation, I'm sure Juan wasn't one of the thugs because he's still too Young. I must warn that Juan is a very nice guy and everything. 

If children can learn to be compassionate with animals and people, but didn't do so; then somebody's not doing his job right. Who? All segments of society, headed by the civil and religious authorities. 

MONÍSIMO

I'm Monísimo, David and Juan's friend. I feel very sorrowful because I haven't seen my friend David anymore, but you see how nature has been tough with me (or perhaps wise) for not letting me know what happened with him. I'm a bit of a naughty, playful guy since I was little; although I'm already 18 months old. I remember that when I had recently been born, I lived with my mom, Pastorcita. She used to take care of me, protect me and tolerate my naughtiness.  I and my 2 siblings loved to climb onto her, while she stood us with patience…  

When I had been living in this world for barely 1 month, my mother was put inside a cage. She hollered in panic; and I tried to be playful because I didn't understand what was happening… That was the last time I saw her. My little siblings disappeared shortly after that. Ramón says the three of them were taken to different places[1]… and I stayed at Ramón's home… saddened and  devastated…

Ramón says I'm a lucky cat because I have a loving family even though we're as poor as they come. I think there are others that are poorer than us…

UPDATE

It's June of the year 2017, planet Earth. I'm already a grownup, knower of the galls and honeys of life and love. This time is me who gets put inside a cage. They take me far away, to the vet's in town. I cry non-stop all the way because I’m afraid. I don't know what's gonna become of me. It's the second time I get brought here. I remember the first time…  

This time too, they made me sleep for some time. Upon waking up, I felt some pain in between my hind legs. I don't know why… I think: “What have they done to me?” I just know, since that day, some things are different for me: I don't have the desire to run after the beautiful females, an activity that used to get me enthusiastic. I still go out in the cold nights to explore the neighborhood and meet with my friends, but it's not like it used to anymore: I'm not excited about the females anymore. I don't know whether I am wrong, but I think now I have to stay an uncle for good[2]…    

ME

Having Monísimo with us has made me feel kind of a father / uncle to him. I found myself for almost the first time in my life, confronted with the mission of protecting a being, which most people considers to have zero rights. I found myself for the first time in my life talking to an animal in front of people, without feeling embarrassed; getting worried or sad because of him; running up and down, carrying him to the vet's; crying, laughing or feeling contented because of him; feeling due respect and loyalty to him. I found myself feeling profound love and compassion for him… No wonder why somebody said that until you have loved an animal…

How beautiful it is to feel you're protecting a being from the cosmos, which is apparently way more fragile than you. Perhaps it's what they call parental instinct, but it's more than that: it's feeling that you're helping "The Universe" in his perpetual mission of providing for all Its beloved creatures. I wonder if every animal protector has had the experience of feeling an enormously fragile creature's eyes in search of you in moments when he believes he's kind of in trouble, in a gesture that is clearly saying: “Are you you? / Are you there?” You know then how much he trusts you and can no less than feel your tears come down your face from seeing how intelligent he is, but at the same time fragile and noble.

Sometimes I have tried to imagine how would it be if I could talk with Monisimo; and the picture that comes to my mind is that of him talking like a little kid, asking kid's questions, and giving kid's answers because that's what he is; no less, no more: a little kid who nature didn't endowed with capacities for human language. If you're one of those that believe animals don't think, just remember babies and think whether they do or don't.

Many animals trust humans, probably at different degrees. Why is man so evil as to let them down by the millions and millions every day in the most heinous of treasons? If the paying of karma really existed, man would be paying it at least for eternity because what we have done and do to animals in a deliberate manner is so hellish that I really doubt it that we deserve forgiveness.

EPILOGUE

The relationship with Monísimo has made me feel lucky and blessed in many ways; and it's no exaggeration when I say that it prompted me to start feeling respect and equality for all beings of the cosmos; and at the same time I realized, almost for the first time, that it's actually true that there are beings poorer[3] and more fragile than us. I marvelously got rid of any traces of speciecism that were left inside me; which, unfortunately, has been entrenched in the human heart for, very likely, millions of years.

I could swear that sometimes when I touch Monísimo, I've felt the love coming from him. It's a certain pleasant energy that I can unmistakably perceive through my hands. The profound affection, which is mutual, makes me feel proud for knowing that my heart has been enabled for compassion and love at levels beyond I thought I could. And it's all because of him that I discovered such precious abilities in my heart.

I Heard, not long ago, when they read on my hamlet's chappel's loudspeaker a passage from the Bible in which instructions were being given to sacrifice an animal. We must remember that this happens in the year 2017, that the world is still urging peace, compassion, and justice, and that the Bible is the best selling book of all times. I then happened to do a search in the Bible for the word “sacrifice” and I found an amazing 299 count of it, all referred to killing animals, and almost all of them supposedly in honor of the god of the Bible. It's just unbelievable!

When I finish writing these notes, I look out the window, see a child playing, and think: “Is he growing to be an abuser of the weak or a protector of the weak?” In the distance, I hear something like a smacking sound, like something hitting something (or rather: hitting somebody), and a little girl crying; then a strong, manly voice asking: “Does it hurt?” and the little girl replying: “Yes;” then the strong voice saying: “That you get for…;” then I hear a little dog screaming and again the strong voice yelling.