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Quote by Zoe Forward

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Protecting His Witch

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Zoe Forward

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“Philippa knew that Eliza was unusual: Animals worshipped her. She attracted them even though she dressed like a heretic. Even that dog of the Cohens had followed her out of the woods. The girl must give off some smell or vibration that attracted the beasts to her. But that she should then turn around and follow them, taking care of distemper or peering into hooves and mouths and reaching into unthinkable places for difficult births?”

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“Rayya already had a community filled with fellow recovering addicts who had loved her for years, and who would have gladly received her admissions of shame and fear and helped her to process her overwhelming desire to drink. They could have guided her back to the principles of the program—back to the acts of service that keep us sober; back to a position of humility and surrender. But Rayya had pushed all those people away in order to chart her own path. And the last thing you ever want an addict doing is charting their own path.”

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“Woody's life was leaking away but I was the one who stepped forward and pulled the plug. Was my timing right? Could he have had another day at home, another week? Could he have gone for one more turn around the park, had one last supper? We'll never know and to handle the reality of euthanasia I learned to be comfortable with the ambiguity and magnitude of when to take a life. All I know for sure is at that irredeemable moment when I drive the plunger home, I will be there for the person trading the overpowering presence of love and companionship with their pet for the cold, empty ache of loss.”

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“I never get to step back and take the contented nothingness that exists between people and animals. Most of my interactions that place during emotional peaks and troughs: tearful hellos and good-byes, the sudden impact of stiches and incisions, bandages and casts, drains and catheters, trauma and cancer, three legs and not four. I miss everything in between, everything that counts, all the wonderful convivial silence, the accumulative fundamental background noise that motivates and drives these extremes.”

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“Having come this far, exposed and candid, perhaps I can find sanctuary behind one incontestable truth pervading operating rooms across the country – the reality of everyday miracles. From time to time the inexplicable and the impossible happen. Behind a paper mask and under artificial lights I get to perform surgery on an unconscious body, the physical part of what we think of as a pet. Essentially I’m working construction. I’m the guy splicing wires, welding pipes, shoring up support beams, and generally renovating the house. All the other stuff, the important stuff, I cannot influence. These are the intangibles, the memories, the history, the bonds, the things that make a difference between a house and a home, the things that make the difference between a body covered in scales or feathers or fur and our pet. It is this everything else that eludes me. This everything else is the spirit of the animal. Under anesthesia, it might move out for a while, but when the surgery is done and the gas turned off, it comes back. In our worst-case scenario, regardless of whether it returns or not, it doesn’t cease to exist. Anesthesia is just a training run for the soul.”

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“Most likely my thoughts were overshadowed by a hankering for a smaller hand size or a larger breed of patient. This was going to be tight – one-handed bomb disposal down a rabbit hole. This close to a beating heart, cutting the wrong connection or failing to cut it clean could be fatal.”

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