Better Than Best Friends
Chapter 6
Absence makes the heart grow stranger
1 In the days that followed I became completely obsessed with Faith and my thoughts quickly became almost constantly preoccupied with the darling little vixen I had met by pure happenstance in the Park that one special day. I laid on my bed and tried to recall them in my mind. I tried to recreate that moment over and over and over again. The sound of their voice, the look of their face with every feature, the scent of their fur, the look and feel of their dress. It was all so vivid in my mind. More real than real to me. I could not wait to meet them again! Because of course, I would! Any day now!
2\t\tMore than that, I would day dream about our future together. Every day more wonderous than the last. We'd do everything together, until there was nothing left to do ... but be in each others presence. No words needed, just understanding and love. We'd hold each others hands silently and observe the sunset together after a perfect day spent together in each other's company.
3\t\tThere was no doubt in my mind that Faith would be my one and only true mate. Faith's darling little face flashed before my minds eye where ever I went, and I kept thinking I saw it when I would go outside and see other children. After a while it seemed like it was the only thing I could see! Whether my eyes were open wide, or wide shut. They were there in my dreams, and there when I woke up, and there all throughout the day. It became a presence that followed me where ever I went, enveloping me with a sense of hope and wonder.
4\t\t"We've found our mate Chippip! We're sure to spend the rest of our lives together!" I said to my chipmunk plushie, kissing him, and twirling about hugging him like the love sick toddlermunk I was.
5\t\tFor once, there was at least one good thing to look forward to in my sordid existence! A cute little toddler cub who understood me. Who wasn't afraid of me. Who shared my deep need to be assured through physical intimacy.
6\t\tIt was obviously Yah-Hasha who had sent them to me. What other explanation could there be? If I had not run away at that exact moment, I never would have met them. A little too early and my mother would have found me first, a little too late and their mother would have instead.
7\t\tAnd what were the chances that they too would have escaped from their leash at the same time!? The only two kids who were leashed due to behavior issues in the whole park! And found exactly the same bushes to hide in!? At the exact same time! And happened to have the same affliction! And for me to be told to have faith, only to find My Faith soon after! Come on ...
8\t\tSurely, surely, if there was ever a time to claim divine providence, this was it! It had to have all been planned by Yah-Hasha himself! It had to be ... right?! The birthday candle magic had worked, as promised! What other explanation could there possibly be? Coincidence? It was far too contrived for that! It was too much like a storybook, a storybook written by a being in control of all things.
9\t\tThe more I thought about it, the more certain it seemed, that this was not all just my imagination. That I had every sign and sigil to conclude, that this was indeed what my mother was talking about. This was Yah-Hasha working to bring about his plan for my life. Surely, I was not made to suffer, I reasoned. To be the unloved, neglected, and abused child I was, no, with evil Yah-Hasha does not try us.
10\t\tI was made to love! I could feel it with every fiber of my being; so much so that it hurt. I was a being:
11 made by love,
12 made of love,
13 made to love and to be loved
14\t\t... and what purpose could my deep and profound need to love be for ... other than to have something on which to exercise that love? Why would Yah-Hasha create a being who so desperately needing to love and be loved, if they could on no account ever find anyfur to give it to or receive it from? That would be madness! Deliberately designed never ending suffering!
15\t\tAnd so the only conclusion was, Yah-Hasha made me with a purpose, and that purpose was to love somefur. And that somefur could only be Faith. For there was not another fur in the whole of the Furthly Realm that would ever allow me the freedom, intimacy, and understanding that My Faith allowed with me, where no explanations were required. We were too perfectly made for each other to call it an accident ...
16\t\t... and what meaning could our meeting possibly have, what significance ... if it were just that ... an accident, if it was coincidence, pure happenstance? It felt so meaningful in the moment, how could that be all an illusion? How could something so special to me, be completely arbitrary? It made no sense to me. The only answer, that I could see, was that it was not arbitrary. That it was meant to happen as it did ... just as it been meant to happen ... with Jonathan ... or at least ... that is what I sincerely believe ...
17\t\tNot long after, I began work on a new artistic masterpiece. It would not just be a work of art ... it would be a blueprint, a plan for our future together, for both Faith and me. I again drew a house, a large square with a triangle above it, and inside was me holding hands with My Dear Little Faith. I drew them with their pretty blue dress just like the day I met them. I took particular enjoyment in drawing their enormous ears and their long flowy sandy colored hair. I sat on my belly as I drew, and smiled like a Cheshire cat, kicking my feet behind me giddy as could be. I would caress one foot with the other as if they too could not stand to be apart for another moment. My whole body squirmed with sensuality and longing. Occasionally I even humped the floor in my excitement, deliberately pressing my crotch against it over and over again. It seemed to relieve some of my overwhelming giddiness while thinking about My Lovely Little Faith. I'd hum to myself sing-songingly until my father would yell at me to shut my fucking trap.
18\t\tI had no idea what species they were. I only had the vaguest understanding that furs came in different species with names and different behaviors. I also didn't understand, if you couldn't tell by this point, that they were a "girl". I knew cubs could be split into two camps called "boys" and "girls", but I just wasn't able to distinguish between them unless I was told who was what. I knew I was a "boy", because that's what I was told, and I had no reason to question it. I knew I was a "chipmunk", because that's what I was told, and I had no reason to question it. I knew these things, but I didn't see what significance they were suppose to have. They were just arbitrary words to me. Likewise for other children, I didn't see what these categories were suppose to signify, and thus, I'd often forget even after I had been told repeatedly. I just didn't see it as important.
19\t\tI knew there was a difference between adult furs and cubs. I knew that adult furs were big and towered over me, while cubs were small, just like me. I knew that adult furs were off limits to love in that special way, the way only mommies and daddies can love each other, as I'd been given such careful instruction by my mother not to hug random strange adults, but no such similar prohibition was instilled in me towards other cubs. And so naturally I gravitated towards other cubs to which my touchy-feelyness might actually be returned without raising alarm. After all, one day we would grow up and would be together as adult furs and mates. Why would I need to wait if I had already found the one I was meant to be with?
20\t\tBut more than that, a cub was somefur I instinctively knew I could relate to. Somefur like me, a fur that shared my limitations and my understanding (or rather lack thereof) of the world. Who like me were powerless in a realm run by adult furs. To commiserate with another cub was to seek comfort in our shared powerlessness. A conspiracy of youth. That made them appealing in a way that adult furs could never be! A true equal, whose love was therefore from a place that I could understand, and could neither be coerced nor coercive.
21\t\tIn any case, it did not matter to me what species or sex Faith turned out to be, since such seemed arbitrary. All I cared about was that they were a toddler cub, like me, and that they were beautiful and captivating, to me, like no other fur before them. And I wanted more than anything to possess them again. To see them again, to confirm that it was not a dream of a dream, or a memory of a false memory. A real fur I had met that day. A perfect fantasy made manifest.
22\tBetween us I drew a heart. Our love. And from our love ... would a child be born? One equally loved by both their mother ... and father? ... whichever one of us turned out to be which? No doubt we would both love our child very much!
23 And then ... and then ... I would begin bitterly with myself ... everything that was wrong, wrong with my life, our family, my house, EVERYTHING: the yelling, the growling, the cursing, the threats, the hitting, the choking, the love that should have been between a son and his father but wasn't ... ALL OF IT! All of it would be as it was meant to be! Two loving parents and their adoring and adored child! A loving and loved mate and a loving and loved child. Things would be made right, this time, I told myself. They would not grow up without the love of both their parents.
24\tI held my picture up into the beautiful days sunlight, admiring it as the most wonderful masterpiece I had ever created or ever would create. It became illuminated, and in my imagination it was Yah-Hasha's divine blessing on what would surely follow. Destiny was literally shinning approvingly upon my fantasy, I firmly believed.
25\tEvery day I'd go to the park with eager anticipation that we would be reunited, by destiny itself I reckoned. I'd prance about, bouncing up and down on my way to Pleasant Park. Of course they would be there, I was certain ... and yet ... every time ... I'd look around frantically for them, and they would be nowhere to be found.
26 No matter, I thought. They would show up shortly. Minutes would pass by, and pretty soon I could sense our visit to the park was reaching about the halfway point.
27 Then I'd start to become disappointed. My mother would try and distract me like she tended to do when she saw I was feeling down. I figured, I might as well play while I waited for My Faith to show up. Maybe it was a test. If I wanted it too bad, if I were too eager or impatient for it to happen according to the plan, Yah-Hasha wouldn't let it happen. But if I was patient, as mama had told me in the beginning, my faith would be rewarded and My Faith would show up, even if it were at the very last minute, and then everything would be great!
28 We'd tear through the park together, perhaps bothering all the other children with our antics. Maybe we could try holding hands together and spinning like those other two children I had seen? I could finally swing with someone who wanted to swing with me. Maybe we could even swing in the same swing together, and take turns sitting in each other's laps! So many wonderous possibilities and yet ...
29 ... none of it ever materialized, it never was more than a daydream, a chasing of the wind. And with each passing day my assurance began to waver a little more. My faith began to dim ... and with it ... My Faith began to dim, day by day, little by little, in my recollections ...
30\tThen I thought, in one last desperate bid, maybe, maybe if I just repeat the events that lead up to me meeting them, maybe it could happen again. I hadn't met her inside Pleasant Park after all, but just outside it.
31\tYes! That had to be the answer, I assured myself. That explained it!
32\t"Mama, mama, let's walk through the park", I begged her, tugging on her dress.
33\t"Jonah, don't you want to stay here and play? The rest of the park doesn't have any toys or games or other kids to play with" she'd try to argue, to convince me to stay in the little nursery garden. I wasn't to be dissuaded. "No! I don't wanna stay here. Park Walk. PARK WALK!" I continued to protest. "Oh alright, but if you get tired you are going right in that there stroller and we are going straight home young man" she'd say, hoping to get me to back down. "Hmfph. Fine" I'd say, calling her bluff.
34\tAnd so we'd walk through the rest of the Park hand-in-hand. The rest of the Park was indeed barren and quite dull in comparison. It was nothing but little cobblestone paths around grassy fields with trees and bushes. There were some park benches, lamps and trash cans, but on the whole it was just something meant for a casual stroll.
35\tThere were a few bridges and ponds, and on rare occasions an ice cream truck might have been heard passing through. It was nice, but it would be fair to call it dull by a child's standard. There was truly very little that would interest a child in this part of the park, and yet, for reasons my mother could not fathom this is where I wanted to be. Ostensibly for a "park walk".
36\tThat being said, I did occasionally see other children feed the ducks, but that's the only activity that I can think of other than simply walking.
37\tIn any case, I wasn't really out there to enjoy the idyllic sights or feed the droll little ducks. I was on a mission. A hunt. I was on look out duty at all times. My eyes and ears were highly attuned to every little motion and sound. Surely Faith was out here somewhere, just as they had been last time. I'd point in the direction I wanted my mother to take me, and in that way we'd explore the Park in search of my love, my joy, my future, my faith.
38 At first I was hopeful of course, just as I had been when I returned to Pleasant Park every day. But even as I now strolled the larger park every day with my mother, my faith continued to fail to materialize, to be vindicated. Was it a matter of not believing strong enough? Like in the stories? If you didn't believe in fairies they would die. If I didn't believe I would meet My Faith, if I didn't trust Yah-Hasha to come through, they wouldn't.
39\tAnd so the failure must have ultimately come down to me, and my lack of faith, my lack of belief that I could ever truly be loved. Heck I was beginning to be convinced I had made the whole thing up! That I was confusing it with a dream I had. Had I dreamt it night after night because it happened? Or thought it happened because I have dreamt it so often and oh so vividly ... I didn't know ... and that deeply troubled me.
40\tAt last I gave into despair and hopelessness. I folded my arms and rested my head gently upon them while on the bridge overlooking the stream. I looked sorrowfully at the normal children feeding the normal ducks on this perfectly normal day ... and I felt ... a profound sense of separation and disconnection from it all. As if ... I wasn't really there at all ... merely a passive observer to life ... unable to have any meaningful effect upon it. As if there was no where I really belonged and I was always on the outside of life, peering into others lives without really understanding it.
41\tI looked sorrowfully at my reflection. To me, I was the cutest little chipmunk boy in all the world, and yet, no one loved me, not like that. Not in that special way, the way only someone not related to you can. A love that is not demanded or required by title like a mommy and daddy (even if they sometimes did not live up to their divine charter). A love given freely without compulsion by any force Furthly or divine.
42 It's a shame I did not recognize the irony of that at the time. For if the love I was seeking could not be had if it were compulsory, how then could Yah-Hasha have ordained it? But, as intelligent as I was even then, I did not make that connection.
43\tMy mother noticed my distress, but as always, rather than try and understand it, she tried to redirect me. No doubt a technique she learned from one of those awful parenting books my father got her into.
44\t"Come on Jonah, cheer up!" she began. I barely noticed. I was too lost in my dreary thoughts. "It's a beautiful day, we are in the Park together, what on God's green Furth is there to be down about? Look! See how much fun those cubs over there are having feeding the ducks? I brought some bread. Why don't we try feeding the ducks too?" she offered.
45 "I don't wanna!" I whined, as I turned my head away from her. She was interrupting my thoughts. I didn't care about the stupid ducks. I wanted to solve my problem. That's all I cared about. I wanted to figure out how to find My Faith. How could feeding some stupid ducks solve that?
46 The other children had walked away, and the ducks were looking like they were still waiting for more. "Alright, then. I'm gonna feed the ducks. I bet they are still hungry", my mother said. She threw in a piece or two, and sure enough the ducks began to swim over to us. I observed dispassionately, as I continued to reflect on my situation.
47\tWhy was it so important to me? Why didn't I just try to find someone else to make friends with? Well firstly, I didn't really know what making friends even meant at the time. I thought the only relationship one formed in life, other than familial bonds, was meeting the one you would marry someday. But more importantly, I didn't really believe any other child wanted to have anything to do with me regardless of the pretext ...
48 ... Let me explain it this way ... do you know the feeling? The magical feeling of being a naive kid, and going to the park everyday and thinking, today's going to be the day I meet someone special, the day I make a true friend, or meet the love of my life? And It feels so real, like destiny is about to happen! And every day, you start out with hopes higher than the sky only to find yourself disappointed by the end. The clouds do not part, the imaginary fur of your dreams never does show up, and you are left feeling even more alone than when you began, and you think, well there is always tomorrow.
49 Well ladies and gentlefurs, I had that feeling over and over and over again, every goddamned time I went to the park. Some will say, you will never met such a fur, you have to go out there and introduce yourself. But then even when I thought I had finally met that special somefur, and I did make an effort to introduce myself, things would always go horribly wrong. The kid I liked would end up hating me and never wanting to speak to me again.
50 But then imagine, on one day, through no fault of your own, no attempt on your part to reach out to somefur, the thing that never did happen to you, that you would surely grow up and chalk up to childhood naivety, really did happen! Imagine your lovely dream and fantasy, whatever it was for you, really did happen! That despite everything you've been told about being realistic, life really did shine on you for a moment and gave you exactly what you were looking for! Exactly what you needed in that moment! Could you imagine what that would be like? How that would feel? And how you'd never want to lose that once you found that ...
51 In a way, that really is my story, my raison d'etre, and that really is what happened when I met Jonathan ...
52\tAnd likewise that's what Faith was to me at the time as well. Because on that day I met them, it felt like the magical day had finally arrived and the clouds did part for a moment. An impossible dream actually had come to pass, and I had been vindicated in someway, that it was not all in my head, that Yah-Hasha really was on my side, really did hear my prayer, and really did have a plan for me ...
53 ... and maybe if that were true, he also heard me in my suffering and my neglect. Maybe he even had the power to turn my father's heart from hate and cruelty into love and tenderness ...
54 ... sigh ... stupid I know ...
55 Distance makes the heart grow fonder they say, but its also clear to me now, looking back on these events, that distances also distort, make us idealize the ones we are not around. The longer I was away from Faith the more they became everything I imagined I wanted. The less I could remember of them, the more those details were filled in with a radiant fantasy of my own making. The thing is I whole heartedly believed what I was experiencing was all too real. It wasn't fantasy to me. I also say this with the foresight of knowing how it all would all end, a benefit I certainly did not have at the time.
56 Something occurs to me though, though I don't care to admit it. What if distances distort in other ways? Could distance make the heart grow more bitter as well? What if all the years of my father not being there for me, after he left us, after such a period of intense early abuse from him, has caused me to color in the blanks in my understanding of my father with an understanding of him as an absolute monster? I've assumed for years that my father had no love for me whatsoever, in fact, that he truly wanted me dead, but really, just like I was living in a bright and colorful fantasy with my understanding of Faith, maybe I too have been living in a fantasy regarding my father, but in this case a dark and grim one.
57 That is certainly something worthy of further reflection, especially in light of some of the events that were soon to follow, but for now let's return to my thoughts as my three-year-old self regarding my lovelorn plight.
58 I observed as the ducks made their way over to us, and saw that only those who had been closest from the start were able to get to the bread my mother had thrown in. They had just happened to be at the right place at the right time, much as I had been with My Faith. What if there really was somefur fashioned especially for you by Yah-Hasha himself, but meeting them really was just a matter of luck; of just being at the right place at the right time? Are there those that only meet them once in a lifetime? Are there those that never meet them at all?
59 "Look Jonah, they're hungry! Why don't you help feed them?" my mother said, handing me a piece of bread. I grabbed it gingerly, looking it over, pondering it's significance. Why did we need to feed the ducks anyway? Doesn't Yah-Hasha already provide? And if not, if it was simply we that fed them, how did Yah-Hasha ensure that every duck got their fill? Every duck got their fair share?
60 I dropped it in and observed as only the swiftest and most aggressive ducks got their fill. Whoever was nearest or quickest, would get it. At very least the ducks were not inclined to share. What if I should never see Faith again? Might some other fur wind up marrying them? Then what? What happened then? If Faith really was my one and only true mate, but circumstances should just be that I never meet them again in this life, did that mean that I would have to be alone for the rest of my life? To forever wander the Furth in search of the one and only I shall never get to be with?
61 Was there something I was suppose to have done differently? And now that the mistake had been made, had I lost the one opportunity to ever be with them forever?
62 As I continued to toss bread crumbs I noticed one little duck, small and timid, who just didn't seem bold enough to try and snatch a piece. Was I such a duck? Somehow doomed, for whatever reason, to never get what I wanted? In my case, not for lack of boldness, but for a lack of tact. But the principle was the same, the duck could no more help being timid, than I could of being overbearing. And for this reason I would suffer alone forever.
63 I kept throwing in more bread hoping the timid one would get a bite, just one. But even when I tried to throw it in close proximity to them, another duck would snatch it first, and the timid one would just move out of their way. Then I got mad. "You STUPID DUCKS! Why can't you SHARE!" I shouted, my fist trembling in the air. I tossed the bread crumb at the mean ducks head. This did not phase them however. So I looked around on the bridge to find something to throw at them. With that I found a little stone on the bridge and tossed it at them with all the force I could muster. The ducks scattered in a panic and the stone hit the water with a loud splash.
64 "JONAH! Don't throw rocks at the ducks!" my mother shouted at me, and with that gave me a little tap on the wrist. Then she held me by the shoulders and tried to talk to me as I looked away, "Jonah, that wasn't very nice! You could have hurt them! What has got into you! What's wrong with you!?". "Jonah, Jonah answer me!" she said as she began to shake me beginning to lose her patience.
65 This made me feel quite guilty. I always ended up lashing out at the ones I loved. Now I couldn't even help the timid little duck, as I had frightened them away as well. A little tear began to form. What was wrong with me? Why was I so angry a moment ago, and so confused now?
66 "Jonah ... we are going home now ... you are becoming cranky and tired" she said sternly as began to pull me towards the stroller. "I'm NOT! I'M NOT TIRED! I DON'T WANT TO GO!" I began to protest, trying to resist her grip as much as I body was able.
67 The little duck never even got a bite, I kept repeating in my mind. What if, what if, I never actually did either? What if I really had never met Faith in the park? What if it really were something I made up?! The thought went from barely plausible to suddenly all too real!
68 "We are going home! NOW!" my mother said, now pulling me within inches of the stroller. "NO! NO! NO!" I said as I continued to struggle, only now I wasn't just struggling against my mother, but against the very idea that Faith wasn't real, that I had made them up. Tears began to stream down my face. That couldn't be true! Couldn't! I know I met them in the park! Right?! Right!?
69 I didn't make that up, that couldn't be true. I remember the circumstances so vividly! I had escaped my mother, just like I'm trying to do now, and I ran out of the park looking for somewhere to hide. I wanted to climb a tree to hide from my mother but I became scared. Then I decided to hide in some bushes instead. I met faith in the bushes ... that's it!
70 I began to growl and struggle like a wild animal as she was about to strap me in. Well I wasn't going to let that happen. Not now, not when I had finally figured out how I could prove that faith was real! All I had to do was find the bushes again. That would prove that I really met them; that the place was real. I never went back to the exact same spot since I saw them.
71 So what did I do? I bit my mother. She pulled her hand back and before she had a chance to stop me I ran off on all fours. She didn't even have enough time to grab my leash, just like last time! "Jonah come back!" she shouted, not in anger, but in concern. I know it was a terrible thing to do. I feel bad thinking back on it. I was just so desperate to find a way to make it happen again.
72 I ran across the whole park frantically. I would briefly stop and look around, seeing if there was anything that I recognized, but alas, nothing stood out to me. And so before my mother could catch up I'd dash off in another direction and check my surroundings again. Still nothing I recognized.
73 It almost felt like a dream slipping away, and if I didn't find it soon, it would disappear completely!
74 Could dreams be real? Could it be that if I believed it enough, then it would exist? I stopped in my tracks. What if I found it, would that prove it was real? I paused as a horrible sinking feeling overcame me. What if I had simply created the event in my mind? I could have seen the place, and then dreamt I met them there at some later point.
75 As I was scanning at that moment however I spotted it. I recognized the tree and ran over to it. I reached my paw up to it just like I had last time, like I was trying to recreate the event. Yes this was the tree. "JONAH! Don't climb that tree!" I heard my mother shout off in the distance as she ran towards me. I looked to my right, and there was the very bush where I had or at least thought I had met them! The place was real. But wait ... I had never seen this place before that day that I met faith. I was sure of this. So ... if it was all a dream ... how could I have known there was this exact tree and bush in the Park?
76 Did the existence of this place prove that I had met them? Even if I had not seen this place before? No. It was unlikely, but it could be a coincidence, a dream that just happened to have the same tree and bush! Perhaps it was all a dream. Does that mean faith wasn't real? No. It was unlikely, but if the latter was true, it did not necessarily mean they were not real either. It could be a coincidence, they still existed out there somewhere for me to meet one day!
77 Then a spark of lightning went down my spine as it all clicked into place. My dream was prophetic! I had never met faith before. That's why it all seemed so incredible, so dreamlike and impossible. I had heard that Yah-Hasha sometimes gave the prophets visions, visions of the future, in dreams.
78 So the meeting I had with faith, was only a dream, I'd never met them before while awake. But Yah-Hasha was letting me know in this moment, they were a real fur, someone I was going to meet.
79 I wasn't aware of the concept at the time, but there is something called synchronicity. This holds that significant and meaningful coincidences can happen. In such a theory, it would be no accident that I would have a dream of nearly identical circumstances to meeting faith before actually meeting them.
80 Everything was so much like the dream. I had escaped from my mother grabbing the leash, I ran through the park to escape, and here I was at the same tree. Perhaps faith is in those bushes right now to be found!
81 "Now I've got you!" my mother shouted. I quickly dived into the bushes just out of her grasp.
82 "Faith! Faith? Faith? Faith?! Faith!?" I kept shouting. I looked and looked, my panic steadily rising, but there was no cute little vixen to be found. I was devastated. I'd tried everything I could think of trying. I'd even returned to the place it happened and recreated the events that lead up to our meeting ... and still ... nothing. My mind raced with dozens of possibilities and questions, but none of them gave me an answer that I could use to find my faith. In fact, I couldn't even prove they ever existed as anything but a figment of my imagination ...
83 What do you think? Do you think I've made her up? Do the circumstances seem too outlandish to be true? Is it possible I was capable of deceiving myself to such an extent to invent and believe such a fantasy? Well ladies and gentlefurs, you may not well believe me when I say this, but in that moment I came to accept that they may very well have just been a figment of my imagination ...
84 ... and with that my mother managed to get to me in the bushes and snatch me up. "No mom! No! Listen! He's here mom! He's here! I know it! Stop! Wait!", I begged as she dragged me out clearly not interested in any of my nonsense.
85 As I was finally pulled out from the bushes, my hand stretched out towards them as she dragged me away, lost in my daydream, seeing faith still hiding there to be found. I waved goodbye as I had done last time they had been separated from me. I was deliberately recreating the event, because it was all I had. For a brief moment ... I could swear ... I saw their mischievous smile and devilish eyes peaking through leaves ... before I was pulled away for good ...
86 Had they been deliberately avoiding me so that I could not find them? Teasing me, mocking me, with what I could never have again? That smile, so knowing ... so devious ...
87 For some reason ... this memory gives me the chills looking back on it now ...
88 After that I gave up hope on my dream being realized. I felt that I had imagined the whole thing. I had created a vision that was exactly what I needed at the time. Sure I had run away, I had found the tree, and I had hid in those bushes. But there was not another cub just like me, who also had a leash, who had just so happened to escape at the same time. That ... was just my complete break from reality. A game of pretend taken too far.
89 I'd lay on my bed for days after. I tried to recall their face. Every subtle little detail. I poured over every miniscule detail of that memory, over and over and over again. Until it all began to blur. Until I couldn't be sure what was real and what was made up five minutes ago.
90 I tried so hard to recall it as vividly as it had been when it "happened", although even that was in doubt now. The dream, the memory, was fading. They were slowly and painfully being erased from my mind. I was so transfixed and focused on every little pore and hair and sensation that I could tell as it went from vivid, to impressionistic, to abstract. Soon they would fade into nothingness I felt. I was so desperate to hold on that I think I may have exacerbated the memories very demise, or at very least it's dissolution.
91 I was losing them, and there would be no way to recover them.
92 At last I turned to the picture, the one and only piece of evidence I had that Faith was someone I actually met that day.
93 I would look at my picture as if trying to decode a mystery. I held it up above my head while laying on my bed, and repeated like a mantra, a prayer, a wish:
94 Our love, and from a love, a child,
95 and then, everything that was wrong,
96 wrong with my life, our family, my house, everything,
97 the yelling, the growling, the cursing, the threats, the hitting, the choking,
98 the love that should be between a son and his father,
99 all of it ... would be as it was meant to be ...
100 As I said this, the sun did not shine upon and illuminate my illustration. I stared at the drawing of my faith desperately trying to hold onto the last shred of sanity and hope I had. Tears screamed down my face silently, I did not sob as a child. All just became pain ... until all I could feel was them ...
***
101 In the days that followed I became entirely detached from life. It was like the toddler version of major depression.
102 Eventually I came to accept that I had made the whole thing up. I hid my drawing under my bed, the last remnant of a beautiful dream and fantasy, a fantasy of escape from the horrors of my childhood. I no longer could remember what they looked like. When I tried to recall Faith, all I could see was the picture I drew of us together.
103 I tried to forget them, but my spirits had been shot. I was still afraid to reach out to other children. I was more afraid of rejection than I was drawn to the sense of discovery. Maybe, somewhere deep down, I was still holding out a candle to the hope of one day seeing Faith again somehow. Even if only in a dream.
104 My mother told me to try and make friends. To try to talk to other cubs, but I knew that the moment I opened myself up, even a little, my enthusiasm would overwhelm me, I'd begin to behave inappropriately, and I'd scare them off. It was compulsive. I consciously knew I was overstepping my bounds, and yet I couldn't quite help it.
105 I've been dreading this, but I think now is the time to recount one of the most terrifying and painful memories of my life. Keep in mind all this stuff regarding Faith being a figment of my imagination was still running in the background.
106 I didn't know where I was going that day in the car. It was apparently a big "secret". If I had known where I was being taken I would have never gotten into Michael's ol' broken down Station Wagon on any account. No doubt that's why my mom coaxed me with it being a "surprise". Betrayed and lied to by my own mother! More on that later ... of course in my father's case, what he intended to forcibly subject me to was par for the course.
107 I had no enthusiasm for the trip. I didn't care where my parents were dragging me to. Where ever it was I would still be alone with my thoughts.
108 They strapped me into my booster seat, and I stared longingly out of the window as things flew by. I caught the faint scent of Faith's fur as the wind blew through the car window and I sighed. A moment passed and I could no longer remember what it was like. Faith was like a ghost that haunted my consciousness and my subconscious. Little memories would sometimes return and then disappear just as quickly.
109 Finally we pulled up to the gigantic recreational center, somewhat on the woodsy outskirts of town. "We're here kiddo" my mother chirped. I did not react. She had been concerned about me lately. She didn't understand why a three year old had suddenly lost all sense of life.
110 When we got inside my parents had to fill out some paperwork and pay a small membership fee, not that I understood any of that at the time. And with that we were now free to use the Rec Center for the first time. I began to look around with mild curiosity. I'd never seen the rec center before. My ears began to perk up. I could hear little sounds. Sounds that sounded like other cubs.
111 I had a little bookbag with my necessities. My mother had packed it. She then gave me a towel and said, "Okay now, go on 'nd follow daddy hun". Huh? I was confused. It was unusual for mom and me to separate for any reason, especially if doing so would mean leaving me with alone with Michael. She'd sooner leave me in a stroller by myself while going to the rest room, than leave me with my dad to watch me. That was just asking for something to go wrong!
112 "But ma ma, I want to go with you!" I said holding my hands up hoping to be picked up. "Now Jonah, you are a big boy now. Mamma has to go to the girls changing room and you and daddy need to go to the boys changing room, okay?".
113 "but mama, why can't I go with you?" I said with growing panic.
114 "Because you are not a girl Jonah. You're a boy." my mother said sternly.
115 I thought about this for a moment. We were being segregated by sex? Well that was silly, but okay then.\t
"Then I'm a girl like you mama!" I said.
116 "Jonah, you can't be a girl, you are a boy." she said with growing exasperation. "Look as soon you and daddy get changed you'll meet me on the other side. Just trust me kiddo, your mama ain't goin' no wheres" she said reassuringly.
117 "But ma, why can't we all just get changed together?!" I pleaded. None of this made any sense to me. It all seemed so arbitrary.
118 "Because boys and girls are different." she said.
119 "Different how?!" I said a little too loud, becoming confused and frustrated. Again and again this silly thing with boys and girls would come up that I couldn't understand.
120 "Alright, enough of this!" snarled Michael, and he grabbed my arm forcefully and started pulling me towards the boy changing rooms. I panicked.
121 "Mom, mom! Help me, daddies gonna hurt me!" I screamed as I tried to tug myself away. "Please let me go with you!"
122 Then my father got mad "Shut your little mouth you hear me! You are going in there and that's all there is to it". There was a low menace in his voice, like he was secretly threatening to do terrible things to me if I did not obey. Clearly I had said something he wanted me to keep quiet about. He twisted my arms and held my face and forced me to look into his terrifying eyes. He meant business. I whimpered quietly not daring to say a word with his grizzly muzzle right in my face. He could have easily bitten my face off if he wanted to!
123 "Vich STOP IT! You are terrifying him. Look he is literally shaking." my mother came to my aid.
124 "Oh really? Good. A child should fear their parents. Otherwise all you get is arguing with a literal three year old!" Vich shot back.
125 "Vich, we can talk to and explain things to him. We don't need to scare him." she said, trying to speak some sense to my father. Pfft. Gooood luck!
126 "I've got this Grace, just go get changed." he said without once breaking his laser focused gaze on me.
127\t"Vich, don't hurt him, just talk to him. Hun go with dad alright. You'll see me soon after mommy gets dressed." and with that she walked away. Great. I was dead. I gulped.
128 I so badly wanted to look back at her and see where she was going. But I was too terrified to free my face from Vich's grip. No telling what he might do to me if I tried to do something like that. I was completely under his power now. You know that thing that sometimes happens to prey animals when they are so afraid they don't know what to do? So they just stand in place, basically guaranteeing their demise? That was me in that moment. I knew what my father was capable of when no one was looking. He had done some truly awful things to me. Choking me, dragging me by the tail across the house, gripping onto my shirt so he could slap me over and over again ... and then one time ... he did something even worse than all that ... but ... that happened a little later ... so I won't revisit that right now ... fact is ... I'd rather not ... shudders ...
129 In any case, even now I had been physically, emotionally, and psychologically abused so much that I was genuinely afraid of him. It's a big reason why I had wanted to go with mom in the first place, or at least have us all stick together.
130 My father snarled under his breath, "now you listen, and you listen good you fucking lil shit. You are gonna walk with me into that door over there and you aren't going to struggle, or whine, or shout. Do I make myself clear?!"
131 With that he removed his hand that was pinching my cheeks, so I could respond. He still held onto me tightly by my shirt. I shook my head yes without saying a word. I was too afraid to speak at this point.
132 "Good", he said, and with that he stopped gripping my shirt and grabbed my hand. He walked a little too fast, but I tried my best to keep up. Any wrong move might be interpreted as non-compliance and could lead to me getting severely beaten later. The best thing was to try and make sure there was not even a hint of resistance.
133 My father opened the door and we went into the boys locker room. It was all covered in white tiles, and I found myself kind of mesmerized by this strange new place. It kind of felt like a public rest room ... but much much bigger.
134 Strange males would come waltzing out in only a towel or swimming trunks and I would end up huddling near my father, even though I was also afraid of him. I wonder if my father had not traumatized me to be afraid of adult males in general at that point.
135 Occasionally I would hear other boys talking and my curiosity and ears would perk up, trying to determine the location of the sound, which was impossible.
136 My father seemed to notice my strange mix of emotions, both fear and curiosity. No doubt he saw it as being a result of my fundamental chipmunk nature, something which, he for some reason, despised. He'd push me away when I tried to seek him for comfort and he would tell me to mind my own business when he noticed me trying to pay attention to the sounds around me.
137 After a few turns we found ourselves in the locker rooms. At last here things opened up to a vast area of lockers, benches, showers, and so many furs both young and old. Everyone was mostly in a state of partial undress and I was extremely confused. Why were so many furs practically naked in public?! Wasn't everyone suppose to have privacy unless they were married? I was both elated and terrified at this.
138 My father, for his part, did not seem the least bit surprised by any of this, which further confused me. Did mom know about this place? Was it okay to be here? Aren't furs suppose to keep themselves mostly covered? Why was it okay here? What are we even doing here? So many questions my three-year-old brain would come up with, and so little answers that it could actually produce.
139 At last we found a little area for ourselves with just enough personal space.
140"Alright, let's be quick about this", my father said as he proceeded to try and lift my shirt off.
141 I resisted.
142 "No Dad, furs can see me, stop taking off my shirt! I'm suppose to have privacy!" I said in protest as I tried desperately to keep my shirt down. Why I thought it was a good idea to challenge my father on anything is beyond me.
143 "Get that fucking shirt off now!" he said really fighting me. Some other furs began to notice our struggling and look on unapprovingly. Vich seemed to calm down a bit. I was confused at the time. Now it's obvious my father couldn't go all out on me like he would like in the company of others.
144 "Come on, knock it off kid, we are just getting undressed and then putting on our swimming trunks!" he said irritably as he continued to try and fight me to get my shirt off, this time without openly trying to hurt me.
145 "But dad, mom said keep my clothes on when I'm outside" I tried to protest.
146 "And I'm telling you to take them all off right now, understand?!" my father said threateningly, grabbing me by my shirt and pulling me in close bearing his teeth at me. His focus momentarily wavered. He was being eyed suspiciously by the other adult males again. Something was off about the way he treated me. My father's grip loosened ever so slightly, and he turned to someone else out of view and said "What are you looking at! Mind your own business!". Then he returned to me even angrier, but not because he was about to hurt me, but because he knew he couldn't do very much to me here and now. His ability to rough me up in public was very limited.
147 I could sense the malice in his eyes. They had become especially slit like ... like some primitive carnal instinct lay behind them, like he wanted to give into his predatory desire and gobble me up and be done with me then and there! Then he would be free to forget about his dumb and broken son, this shameful chipmunk progeny he had not intended to sire. But I didn't know that yet. All I knew was the look in his eyes was like that of a monster, and I had to close my eyes and look away. If I were to die at least it would be less terrifying this way.
148 "Jonah!" he shouted at me, jolting me out of my fantasy of being eaten ... at least ... I hope it was a fantasy. "Get undressed already, I'm not gonna fight with you anymore. Undress yourself right now!" he commanded me.
149 "But mom said ..." I began.
150 "I don't give a fuck what mom said! Get yourself undressed right now!!" he barked.
151 "Right now?" I hesitated.
152 "Yes right now" he said firmly.
153 "In front of all these furs?!" I continued involuntarily. As if I couldn't help saying what my mind was thinking. Even though I knew I was only angering him more. I was powerless not to raise these logical objections, at least, what seemed like logical objections to me at the time.
154 "Would you hurry up, mom is going to be waiting for us" my father said, as he proceeded to get up and take off his own shirt, and then begin to unbuckle his pants.
155 Wait, I thought, what was going on here? I looked around to see others were getting undressed, but shyly looked away since my mother had told me not to dwell on nudity. But it seemed like this was some kind of specially designated area where it was okay to become undressed and naked around others.
156 Now as a non-fur you may find clothing to provide warmth, but for us furs, it much more of an inconvenience. It doesn't quite press up against our skin like it does yours, and it rubs awkwardly against our fur. This can make it shift around a bit uncomfortably as we move. That or it mats down our fur causing it to trap more heat. This is why some furs prefer to trim their fur to make it more compatible with clothing. Generally speaking the anthromorphs with the shorter fur tend to have an easier time with it.
157 In short, we weren't really designed to wear clothing. Our naturally furry bodies already provide the warmth we need, and so clothing feels more uncomfortable to us than to yourselves. The real reason we wear clothing is to cover our shame. Our shameful bodies which are neither man nor beast, for we are an abomination before Elohim, the God of man. It was Yah-Hasha who whisked us away from Elohim's grasp that we may not be destroyed, and brought us to the paradise world known as the Furthly Realm, and instructed the first children of Adam, the original anthromorphs, to cover their bodies in clothing.
158 That is to say, that for us, nudity represents more to us than just sexuality ... it represents being free to embrace our natural state, to accept our animal nature, to indulge our instincts, to be not a man, who is burdened with awareness and responsibility both to God and his own soul, but a free and unfettered creature, unbound by the chains, both visible and invisible, that bind men.
159 "You mean ... it's okay to get undressed here? In front of everyone? I can get naked?" I asked just to make absolutely sure I wasn't misunderstanding the situation.
160 "Yes! Now please hurry up!", my father said impatiently as he stripped down to only his underwear. My father had no idea the insanity he was about to unleash upon the Furth.
161 Well okay then, I thought. If dad was giving me permission. Finally a chance to do exactly what I always wanted! To expose myself to everyone and be free ... hehe ...
162 So at last, without any hesitation, now having been reassured, I enthusiastically lifted my shirt off. I quickly got to work pulling my shorts down. There was a moments hesitation before pulling off my own undies. Was I really being allowed to do this naughty and shameful thing. Showing off my own private parts in public? The tantalizing opportunity excited, me. I started to feel my peen getting excited and peek out just at the thought!
163 And so I began to pull at the back of my undies and slowly pull my tail out from the tail hole. With that done, a little toothy grin crept onto my face, and I pulled the back of my undies exposing my rear. The cool air felt good on my fur. There was something exciting about the idea that others might see me, might actually be looking.
164 Now for the best part. With a little giggle of anticipation, I pulled down my undies down to my ankles and then stepped out of them, exposing my genitals for all the world to see. My dad was currently completely naked as well. "Look dad, we're naked?" I exclaimed, raising my arms up and fully exposing myself. A small erection was poking through my sheath. The look on my father's face was the realization that he really hadn't thought this through. He forgot he was dealing with me.
165 "Look everyone I'm naked!", and with that I dashed off on all fours happy as a clam. "No, Jonah get back here! You're suppose to get dressed!" my father barked, but it was too late to reason with me. I was already too far gone.
166 I certainly was gonna get my eyeful while I had the chance. No way I was gonna let this opportunity slip away. I took a moment to perch myself on the tiled floor on all fours and survey my surroundings. So many naked furs, both young and old. I saw some big ol' floopy dicks on the adults. A big polar bear who had just left the showers and was shamelessly walking back to his locker with nothing but a towel slung over his back. The enormous and somewhat grotesque genitals of the equine variety. But more importantly to me, I saw other boys, also completely in their natural state. I remember thinking how wonderful their uninterrupted fur looked without clothing.
167 I shamelessly ogled to my hearts content. Here were real boys before me, not some fantasy. Might one among them be my real true one and only?
168\tThen I noticed an older boy standing and drying his shoulders off. He was of the artiodactyla branch of the anthromorph lineage, not that I knew anything about that at the time. I just found his budding fawn horns interesting. He was a reindeer you see. He had a beautiful slender and spotted back and I was fascinated by the elegance and sleekness of his naked body. I liked the look of his puffy little tail. The way it was all white underneath. How it ... accented the shape of his rear ... hmm ... how awkward this is to admit now ... even to myself. To try and relive these thoughts and capture the feelings and thoughts I was having. I can no longer plead ignorance like I once could as a child. I know better now ...
169 But I was only three at the time! I didn't know I was doing anything strange or wrong staring at him! Surely I was too young for it to "count", right? Was I really so strange for having these thoughts at such a young age ... I can hear them taunting me,
170 fag-got, fag-got, Jonah's a fag-got
171 I wish Rash and Frankie would get out of my head ... -_-;
172 Part of me really wants to believe I was innocent of these accusations, that it was just youthful ignorance, but ... recalling it now, knowing now what I know, and what I've become, I can't help but wonder if maybe I wasn't quite as innocent as I'd like to believe. I almost dare not ask it but it does beg asking. Does finding this naked boy attractive ... because what else would one call it ... at such a young age, make me a "fag"? Was I actually a fag all along and just didn't know it?
173 For the last three weeks I've done nothing but ask myself this over and over again. Could everyone be right about me? Could I really just be a completely hopeless faggot? A part of me screams out in protest, and yet ... everything everyone says fits together too perfectly. Every experience I have seems to point in that direction.
174\tAnd where was Faith in all this? Well ... at this point I thought I had made them up! And even if they were real I didn't know if I'd ever see them again, and again I didn't know that they was a girl, or that boys were only suppose to be with girls. That they was "different" than me in some way. I didn't understand that they were any different than any of the naked boys I was seeing in the locker room, who were, as far as I understood at the time, all equally valid options for mates!
175 Maybe ... maybe because I didn't know where I was suppose to direct my attraction, I was liable to direct it almost anywhere ... but that can't be right. That's not how attraction works! I didn't chose to be attracted to Faith, did I? I just was ... right? Because they were a girl ... and I was a boy ... even if I didn't know either at the time. That's just how biology works! I mean how else could it work?! How would we know who we are suppose to mate with? Unless it was not something we were taught, just something that came instinctively, something ... we were born with.
176 Boys are naturally attracted to girls and girls to boys ... but then ... how was it possible for me, as a young little boy to find another older boy pleasing to look at? Unless ... unless it wasn't something that I had to be taught ... but instead something innate ... fundamental to my nature ... something I was born with? That's the explanation I keep coming back to over and over again. That everyone must be right. Because even though they do not know all the experiences that I had growing up, when consider all the things they've said and I look over my experiences, the pieces fit, and there is only one answer ... I was, am, and always will be a faggot. It's what I am. I simply have no choice in the matter!
177 But that's not how it felt at the time! I just thought I liked this boy and wanted to be his "friend", even if I didn't know it at the time. He looked nice to me, pleasing to the eyes, and I wanted to know more about him, that's all. It just made me want to try and interact with him, to finally have someone my own age I could talk to about everything I was thinking and feeling! I was so god damned lonely! IS THAT SO WRONG?!
178 Sure I might have thought I wanted to find a mate, but again that's only because I didn't know there was any other kind of relationship one could form with another outside of one's family. And what of friendship? What if friendship is innate?! How about that, huh?! Maybe I just wanted a goddamned friend! Even if I thought I was looking for my life-mate.
179 But then I recall my friendship with Jonathan, and I know in my heart of hearts that there are things I wanted, things I can not name, things I do not and can not understand or put into words, that no mere friendship could ever satisfy. A deep and profound longing for which no word, no touch, no earthly act could ever satisfy. A desire to see and be seen by him, simultaneously, seamlessly, in a singular moment not belonging to one or the other but somehow both of us, to transcend the bounds of the possible and enter into the realm of the impossible, to see what can not be seen, think what can not be thought, feel what can not be felt, know what can not be known, to pass beyond the veil of the real, that separates us, and enter into the ineffable truth that lies only in the deepest depths of our own souls, where fear and understanding finally give way ... and all that is left is the feeling of completion ... and oneness ...
180 I've tried to explain it to others, even Jonathan, especially Jonathan, but no one seems to understand what I'm talking about, and frankly, thinking back on it now, I'm not even sure what I'm trying to get at. Maybe it doesn't mean anything at all!
181 But there is one thing I can not deny ... I did want more than to be just Jonathan's "friend". Seeing Jonathan merely as my "friend" always felt limiting in some way. How many times and how many ways was I repeatedly told by adults that Jonathan was my "friend", "just my friend". As if to imply he should never be more than some acquaintance, some casual "pal". I wasn't allowed to have deep feelings for him, only the feelings I "should" have. As if the boundaries of my feelings should be decided before I've even searched them. Whenever I expressed too strong a feeling, whenever I was too close or too affectionate, or too drawn to him, that is when I would be reminded, Jonathan was just a friend, and there are some things friends can share together, and some things they can never share. That I must always be mindful of my boundaries, not only to not encroach on Jonathan's personal space, but also to not allow Jonathan to do the same to me ... oh but how I loved it when he did ... sigh ... to do otherwise was to disrespect him and be disrespected by him. Oh but let him disrespect me. I'd gladly let him do whatever he would please with me ...
182 Sometimes it was because I was making Jonathan uncomfortable. I understand that better now than I did then. But sometimes it didn't seem to matter. Even if we were both comfortable, still, we were reprimanded and told that some things are not appropriate between friends.
183 But if it's more than friendship I desired, what was it? And if I can not describe it, not even to myself, how can I truly say, I know what I'm talking about? How can I say, that it was not motivated by something deep within me, that I do not understand? That I did not chose? That I love Jonathan, not because of who he is to me, not because of what he means to me because of the fur he is ... but because deep down, although I'm terrified to admit it, I'm actually just gay ...
184 I'd forgotten about this memory of the reindeer boy all those years ago. I had blocked out all my memories of those times when my father was around. I wanted to forget any of that ever happened. But revisiting it now, not with the eyes and understanding of an innocent and naive child, but with what I understand now ... it's ... it's ... undeniable ... maybe I've always been this way. Maybe I really am gay ...
185 As I stood there staring at the handsome boy drying his horns, I had this feeling. I wanted to wrap my arms around him from behind, right then and there. But I remembered what my mother had taught me. I had let my instincts lead me down this path too many times before to disastrous result. I had to resist the urge to go with my first impulse. Just grabbing a stranger would cause them to react badly.
186 So I decided to run in front of him and try to introduce myself.
187 "Hi! I'm Jonah!" I said looking up at him eagerly. If I wasn't such an ignorant little pup, I would have noticed that he immediately backed up and looked at me strangely. But no, I didn't notice. I was too wrapped up in my own excitement as usual. All my hesitation had melted away.
188 "Isn't great?! We're all naked! hehe" I said as my giggly enthusiasm leaked out. "My mom never let's me be naked around strangers, I really like your horns, and your tail. Why are you all spotted?..." it all came leaking out, I couldn't stop myself. Some part of me knew something was off, but I couldn't seem to stop talking. I could sense I was making everyone uncomfortable. All eyes were on me, everyone had gone quiet. But I couldn't stop myself. I wanted this boys attention for some reason. I wanted him to notice me, acknowledge my presence in some way.
189 "You're really tall. I like you. Wanna be mates? Hey ..." at this point I notice his very long and slender shaft, typical for an artiodactyla but strange to a member of rodentia like myself. "Wow ... your pee pee is way bigger than mine..." I said with a giggle, and without a thought I went and grabbed it to feel its girth, pulling it down slightly because I wanted to see what it looked like unsheathed.
190 I don't know what I was expecting to happen. "Hey kid, thanks. Your right, it really is big little buddy. Here let me take it out of it's sheath and show you..."
191 ... seriously ... what the fuck was wrong with me ... sigh ...
192 My righteous judgement was both decisive and swift. "What the fuck, get off my cock you little faggot!" he said crossly as he pushed me away roughly. I fell on the floor, with my legs splayed out and my tail crumbled under my rear. I looked up at the powerful and handsome older boy and the sting of rejection hit me like a million tons of brick. This was the first time someone had directly called me a faggot. My father had used that word to describe me, but he never directly addressed me as a faggot. I didn't really know how to respond. I didn't really understand what the word meant. From the tone however I could tell it was bad ... really bad.
193 My chipmunk instincts were telling me to scurry away but for the moment I was kind of transfixed by the reindeer boys hateful yet beautiful glare.
194 I could see his breathing was flustered with anger. There seemed to be an eternity of awkward silence as we looked at each other. This sustained and direct eye contact with another that was not one of my parents was a powerful moment for me. It was seemingly a direct acknowledgement of my existence even if it was one of anger and hatred ... an anger and hatred I was incapable of understanding in that moment.
195 "Hey whose kid is this?!" came what I presume was the kids father, an impressive and intimidating fully grown dear.
196 My father finally caught up with me and angrily picked me up by the scruff. He just let me hang there as he glared at me ... as everyone was glaring at me ... and suddenly I felt oh so very naked and exposed.
197 "Hey Fox, that your kid!?" came the gruff adult deer taking an imposing step forward towards us. I could sense my father's instinctive agitation. A lithe fox was no match for a massive reindeer such as this. His horns alone adorned him like a massive crown and alone could have been potentially threating and dangerous. Still my father's fox instincts wouldn't allow him to show fear so easily.
198 "What's it to you?!" he snapped back, not afraid to momentarily expose his fangs with a slightly raised lip.
199 "Your son was touching my son! I don't care what kind of mental problems your son has but you'd better teach 'im to keep his hands to himself! You need to have a serious talk with your son and give 'im a stern beating. Straighten your kid out! That kind of behavior is not acceptable!" the father said.
200 As I was hanging there by my scruff, I raised my eyes to have a look around and scan the crowd. The boy I had touched had crossed his arms and seemed to be taking satisfaction in my humiliation. All the other adult faces looked resentful, and the kids my age just seemed confused by me and my behavior. I was strange and a curiosity to them.
201 It must have been humiliating for my father, to stand there with only a towel around his waste holding up his naked chipmunk son. He was being held accountable for my behavior, something he had been trying to curtail from the beginning. I think even then I could sense, I was embarrassing him. I was getting him into trouble.
202 "HEY! Don't tell me how to raise my own son! You think I haven't been trying to keep this little shit in line?!" he said fully bearing his fangs.
203 Despite my father's efforts this reindeer was not to be so easily intimidated, fangs or no fangs. He stepped forward and said "Keep your son away from mine, and back off and leave us alone!".
204 My father clearly had no choice but to back down. A physical altercation with this much larger anthromorph was a bad idea, especially with his son near by to join in the fight if need be. We anthromorphs try to maintain a fascade of polite humanity, but really, deep down, we are still animals at heart. This would be no different than a fox trying to single handily take down two healthy male deer. It was a suicide mission. Even if he managed to bite or mame them, he was bound to wind up being dead for the opportunity. It simply wasn't worth it. Besides we have laws. Even if he somehow got out of such a dangerous altercation unscathed the law would be on us likely for instigating the fight.
205 That being said, my father had to find some way to save face, and the most obvious way to do that was to bring down all his wrath and resentment on me ... fuck me ...
206 I could feel my father's grip painful tightening on my scruff. "I specifically fucking TOLD YOU to stick with me and not run off!". Now I knew my father had said no such thing. He often expected me to simply obey without really explaining anything to me, and so more often than not I'd not really understand what I was and was not suppose to be doing. As far as I knew I hadn't done anything wrong. Dad had told me I could be naked, so I got naked. End of story. He didn't say anything about sticking near him ... until it was too late.
207 In any case it didn't matter. As usual I had fucked up and was now going to suffer the consequences of my ignorance.
208 I wanted to yell at my dad, that I didn't know, but I couldn't speak because he was practically strangling me he was grabbing so tightly on my scruff now.
209 With his angry proclamation made, he stormed off, still carrying me by the nape, to go grab his and my swimming trunks. Then he stormed over to the bathroom stalls.
210 I noticed that he deliberately took us to the stall against the wall, the furthest he could get from everyone else. That was a red flag to me. He was intending to beat me ... badly. As a three year old I had no way to question my father's motives. I was mostly concerned with figuring out the rules to the impossible game of avoiding his wrath. But looking back now, I can't help but think that my father used having power over me to cover over his own insecurities. I don't think my father liked feeling weak. He probably felt cowardly having to back down from the reindeer father, and so he would abuse me instead to compensate. Perhaps my father had more deep seated insecurities I did not know about. The truth is, I do not know much about my father. I don't know much about who he was or why he did what he did. Even now he remains largely a mystery to me. As a three year old, likely with some kind of learning disability, you can't imagine how confused I was by his behavior. Every so often a little spark of fatherliness would emerge, and yet, it was always punctuated by abuse.
211 My father locked the bathroom door behind us, and placed me on the floor. I knew something bad was coming and my chipmunk instincts kicked in. I instinctively ducked down and prepared to scurry underneath the stalls. This was a big mistake. Now my father was really really mad at me. He grabbed me by the scruff again before I could run off.
212 Then he did something awful. He pinned me down to the ground with his knee pressing down on my back. I desperately tried to squirm away. My limbs went frantic with my claws desperately trying to grip onto the slippery floor tiles, but it was no use. I was completely at my father's mercy ... of which he had none.
213 "Stop squirming!" my father threatened as be bore more and more weight down on me. His hands were slowly tightening around me neck. This made me even more desperate to escape my fathers grasp, but this just made things worse for me by the second. I couldn't even defend myself. All my natural defenses, my teeth and claws, were faced away from him, being pressed into the floor. Still at this point, I was in full panic mode. There was no thought anymore than a desperate chipmunk desire to escape my predator. That's what our relationship had been reduced to at this point. He was no longer my father. Just a terrifying predator who was completely overpowering me.
214 "I said stop squirming!" he said loudly under his breath as he shoved my face into the floor and pulled my arm around my back, causing me excruciating pain. At last I just gave up. There comes a point for every prey animal where the exhaustion is too much and the end so inevitable that further effort simply isn't worth it. If one stops struggling, for a brief moment the predator stops pursuing. I had reached that point of desperation. I just lay there spent trying to catch my breath, whimpering quietly with fear.
215 Then he slowly came down to my ears, to whisper into them.
216 "Do you have any idea how humiliating that was?!" he said. Then he began lifting me up and slamming me to the floor over and over again. "Do you understand me?! Do you have any idea at all you god-damned retard!"
217 Then he lifted me up grabbing me very tightly by the nape again and put the toilet seat down. I began to struggle again, sensing something bad was coming.
218 He bent me over the toilet seat with my behind sticking out. The more I struggled the more he pressed me down onto the toilet, going so far as slamming my head into the porcelain over and over to try and get me to stop struggling.
219 Then he lifted my tail yanking it hard and holding my arms behind my back at the same time. I struggled mightily. I tried my best not to let him get both arms, but in the end he got both of them and my tail and I was completely helpless at that point.
220 "Dad please, no! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Dad please stop! I won't do it again, I promise! I promise" I begged.
221 But it was useless. He was determined to take it out on me. He started spanking me with his clawed hands with all the force he could muster. I was terrified of getting all cut up like last time. I could feel the claws and I was pretty sure he was making marks again. With every power hit came another word ...
222 "Don't! EVER! Do! That! Again! Do! You! Under! Stand! I! NEVER! EVER! WANT! TO! SEE! THAT AGAIN! Keep! Your! Fucking! Paws! To! Yourself!"
223 "Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!" came back my response, with every single hit.
224 After that he lifted me up and pushed me against the wall pressing his face directly into mine. His hands were directly around my throat at this point and my hands were clasped around them trying to loosen them, even just a little bit, because he was pressing down again like he wanted to strangle me to death.
225 Then he leaned in to whisper in my ear, "Don't you EVER touch another boy's dick again! Do you hear me!?"
226 I nodded my head yes not processing a single word, not a single word except boy. That was the only one that stood out to me, but my mind didn't have time to process the implications of that word in the moment. It would stick out to me later to be considered once again.
227 In any case, I'd have agreed to anything at that point. I just wanted him to stop. I was terrified.
228 With that he dropped me to the ground and I started to cough, trying my best to message my own neck.
229 With that my father grabbed my pair of swimming trunks and told me to slip my legs in.
230 What could have been a sweet moment between father and son was nothing more than a very confused child shivering with fear, not really understanding what they was suppose to do. Anything could provoke an outburst as far as they were concerned. This child felt bewildered, disconnected from the others around them, and even their own father. But maybe if they just listened, they could avoid any further incident, and so for the moment that's what they decided to do.
231 "Hold my hand and stay close to me. Do not interact with anyone else." my father said sternly as he slipped on his own swimming trunks.
232 With that he took me by the hand and I dutifully followed behind, meek and chastised and humiliated.
233 Despite my father's instruction I could not help but sheepishly look around. I noticed others were staring in our direction. I thought they were all staring at me at the time. But it occurs to me now that they could have just as well been staring at me and my father. No doubt they had all heard the severe beating in the bathroom stall. My father couldn't entirely muffle it. Perhaps they sensed that something was not right about us. Something was wrong. I did not understand it at the time. I had no way to know what was and was not healthy "discipline", but looking back at it, my father was unhinged that day, and it was all leading up to one of the most traumatizing moments of my life. If only I had known the worse was yet to come, I would have fled for my life. Instead I was too afraid to leave my fathers side, lest I get another severe beating.
234 I happened to glance towards the reindeer boy I had touched. My eyes met theirs with an unsureness. Like a desperate plea for some sign of acceptance. But what I saw was them and their brother and their father clearly giving a look like they were glad to see us go. I looked away dejected.
235 And with that my father opened another door, not the one we came in but another one, to reveal a giant swimming pool.
236 My mind was suddenly flooded with so much information. I could see the bluish clear liquid splashing around, the other kids playing around in it, various colors of pool toys, and lots of noise emanating from the proceedings.
237 It took a moment for my mind to process, but once it recovered, and I realized what I was looking at it all clicked at once. This is what I had been brought here for. To face my fear of water head on. I knew it had to have been my father's doing. He often griped about me any time I went into a panic over it. Insulting me, sometimes even forcing me to get into the shower when I didn't want to. I refused to let him. I would only let mom, and even then I was still very scared. Fears are not always rational, and no matter how many times my mother cooed "It's not gonna hurt you kiddo", it made no difference. Even though I could tell some droplets were not gonna hurt me, I still always felt like I was about to drown.
238 And somehow instinctively I knew, my father intended to submerge me completely.
239 After the few seconds it took to process all of that I panicked.
240 "No, No, NO, No, NO, NO!" I squealed as I tried my hardest to pull myself back with my foot paws. It was no use. I had been tricked into letting my father hold my hand. Now there was no escaping. He slowly and methodically pulled me forward inch by inch like an emotionless psychopath. He didn't seem to care how much I fussed, or how that made him look.
241 "Dad please no! Don't put me in there dad! Please dad!" I whimpered as tears began to form in my eyes.
242 "There ya' two are! I was wondering what was taking so long", I heard my mother say. My ears instantly pricked up and I turned to her direction.
243 "Mom!" I yelled as I yanked myself away from dad. He didn't hold on this time ... he knew better.
244 "Mom! Mom!" I said over and over again sobbing into my mother's crotch. She was now wearing a orange one piece swimming suit. I was beginning to put two and two together, and I didn't like where all this was leading.
245 "Oh what's wrong kiddo?" my mother asked, picking me up. I wrapped my arms around her neck like a life preserver.
246 "Ma ... please don't let daddy drown me in the big water!" I burst out.
247 "Oh honey, daddy would never do that. Look mommy and daddy are gonna help you get over your fear of the water ... and we're gonna take it niiiice and sloooow" she tried to reassure me.
248 So I was right! I was fucking right! My mom was a co-conspirator! How do you like that?! They'd both planned to take me here to force me into the water. Oh no, oh heck no!
249 With that I started squirming again, making a fuss, "no no no no!" I kept whimpering.
250 "Alright, alright Jonah, I'm putting you down. You don't have to go in. But daddy and me are gonna go in, and you'll see. There's nothing to it, okay?" with that my mother gently put me down.
251 The minute I wasn't in her grasp I instantly scurried to the furthest point I could get from the pool water. I pressed up against the wall like it was liable to get out and come after me. To me there was a malevolence to it. I never quite forgot my eerie experience drowning in the bathtub. I knew that if I drowned, the thing that was waiting for me was sure to return. That evil had now become synonymous with large bodies of water. It's as if the water wanted me to drown. To be taken to oblivion.
252 I fumbled for the door knob planning to escape back into the boys locker room, but I couldn't get it to work.
253 "HEY! Get away from that door!" my father shouted at me, stomping in my direction. I scurried away from the door and squeezed myself between the wall and a net full of volley balls, shutting my eyes as tightly as I could.
254 As I closed my eyes, I could hear all the other kids playing in the pool having fun. Why was I like this? Why was I so completely terrified of the water? Why couldn't I be like other kids? Why was I so different from everyone else? Why was everything that seemed so simple and obvious to others so difficult for me to understand?
255 "Jonah, look honey, mommy and daddy are having fun." I could hear my mother call out.
256 Timidly I opened one eye and peeked through my fingers. Mom and dad were indeed in the pool. They were standing in the shallow end of the pool, and only their bottom halves were submerged. But I wasn't going to be fooled. If I went in my head would barely reach their crotch and I would surely drown.
257 Next my mom grabbed a beach ball, and started tossing it back and forth with dad. "See what fun were having Jonah? Come on, it's not scary, why not give it a try?" she coaxed.
258 I shook my head vigorously and said "NO!". Why had they taken me here?! I felt terrified and humiliated at the same time. All I wanted to do right now was go home.
259 After a little while my mom walked up to me. "Come on stop being a silly willy" she said. Then she gently grabbed my paw. I roughly pulled my paw away "NO! LEAVE ME ALONE!" I shouted. I was still cross for her conspiring with my father and lying to me about our outing.
260 Then my mother decided to sit next to me. I could see my father was already looking cross and irritable as per usual. Pfft ... jerk. "Come on Grace, he's a child, don't make it up to him, pull him into the water and toss 'em in if ya' have ta'. He'll never get over it if you make more of this than it is!" he started grumbling out loud. "Would you hush up Vich and go practice your stroke 'er somethin' I got this!" shot back my mother. Vich seemed annoyed but he seemed to comply, diving underwater and swimming to the deep end of the pool. My father was apparently a good swimmer as it so happened.
261 "So kiddo ... is this what you want to do for the whole outing? Yer just gonna sit here in the corner?" my mother asked.
262 "Yes...", I said with a pout.
263 "I see ... well then ... I guess I'm just gonna have to sit here and have no fun neider" she said, with her arms and legs crossed. I refused to say anything. I wasn't going to fall for any tricks. I crossed my legs together and put my arms around them, as if to say, I'm not going anywhere mom.
264 "You're telling me you don't want to have fun like all those other kids?" she said while pointing in the direction of some children, splashing and swimming about with floaties and such.
265 That struck a bit of a nerve so I pouted and turned away from the direction my mother was pointing and away from her as well.
266 "hun, I know your scared, but one day you wanna be a big boy like daddy don't you?" she said.
267 I pretended not to listen. But something in those words stirred inside me. Something very painful, something very hidden that I didn't want to admit even to myself; that I did want dad to be proud of me, even as he brutalized me left and right.
268 Mom was there to comfort me and to love me ... but Dad ... Dad was there to demand of me ... to become something, though I couldn't fathom what. I wanted some kind of connection with him. Some part of me understood without words to comprehend them, that understanding my father was a key to understanding and learning something about myself. Something I could never learn from my mother or her love.
269 I looked towards my father. I saw him confidently swimming through the deep end, on the far aisle of the pool, intended for swimming lanes. I had such a mix of feelings. Fear, fear of the distance that separated us, but also some kind of longing, to bridge that gap. To go out to him to bridge that gap, even though that meant facing my fear of the water. Even though he was someone who seemed to despise me, who caused me so much pain and self loathing, and so much confusion.
270 "Look over there Jonah, you see where all the handle bars are? Where mommy and daddy came in to the pool?" she said pointing ahead of us. With my defenses lowered and my curiosity peaked I involuntarily looked in the direction she was pointing.
271 "That right there, are steps leading into the pool" she began "You don't need to go in all at once Jonah. We can take it real slow, alright hun. One step at a time. I bet daddy will be really proud if you can face your fear just a little"
272 My curiosity was beginning to overcome my fear a bit. If I could even take one step towards my father, maybe just maybe, he'd see me differently. He could be proud of me, instead of ashamed.
273 "So what do you say hun, would you like to give it a try?" she said. I was still terrified, but since she wasn't forcing me and I could take it slow, I gave a little nod of ascent.
274 "Alright, let's go" she said, as she grabbed my paw again. A tiny tinge of regret and fear resumed, and I resisted ever so slightly, but not with any real force, and so my mother was easily able to pick me off the ground and pull me towards the pool.
275 The closer we got though the more my fear increased. I started to see the water coming up to us and my resistance started to return, trying to break with my foot paws. "no mama, no no mama" I started saying. She paused a moment, but kept a firm grip on my paw. "Come on Jonah, we are half way there. We can make it. Just try and stay calm". With that she started to slowly pull me even closer and I began to quitely whimper. It felt like the water was coming to get me, rather than me being brought to it.
276 As I could now see the beginning steps into the water my full resistance kicked in, despite my prior determination to reach my father. He now seemed vastly further than before, and I now was completely terrified by the gulf that separated us. I began clawing at the tiled floor as best I could to try and get some kind of grip, pulled on my mothers arms as much as I could shouting "no no No No NO!" in a desperate scrambly bid to free myself.
277 "Jonah stop being ridiculous, you're not even in the water yet!" my mother said as she desparately tried to grab and gain some control of me. If you know how flighty and slippery chipmunk children can be you can imagine how impossible this task really was. No doubt I was accidently scratching her up in the process, but I was in full panic mode and wasn't thinking of anything other than how to escape her grasp.
278 All my fuss was no doubt attracting attention. Worst of all, it likely was catching my father's attention and aggravating him further than he already was.
279 "Jonah calm down! I'm not gonna put you in the water, alright?! Just stop squirming about or mama might slip and get hurt!" I heard my mother say. She now had her feet on the steps, and I was hovering just above the water. My tail flicked into the cold water by mistake and I panicked. I leaped onto the nearest thing I could grasp and latched on the nearby handlebars. I gripped on as hard as I could lest anyone try to pry me loose and put me in the water.
280 "Jonah honey. Let go of the bars sweaty. I'm not gonna put you in the water okay. I just want you to try and dip your foot in. Just see what the water feels like. I promise I'll be here and you'll be okay" my mother said. "No!" I said stubbornly, wrapping my arms even tighter around the bars. If it was difficult to get me into the water before it was nearly impossible now. Chipmunks have quite strong grips designed to help them climb trees, even at our sizes, although adults actually lose the ability being too big and heavy. It would take a lot of force to pry me loose. The best bet was to convince me to let go and my mother knew this.
281 Then my mother took a few steps back and submerged herself some more. "Mama!" I said reaching out for her. I didn't want her to leave me alone here. I was afraid that if I let go I might accidently fall in. "Come on Jonah. Try coming to mama." she said with big open arms. I gripped again, skeptical. Now I was caught in a bit of a double bind.
282 "Just try dipping your toes in" she reassured. "I promise I'll catch you if you fall in, okay?". I was still very afraid, but I did want to reach my mothers comforting embrace. If she held me maybe it wouldn't be so bad. So I slowly reached out one of my foot paws until it made contact with the water.
283 "It's cold!" I exclaimed and retracted my paw. No way was I going in such cold water. That just made it more frightening to me for some reason. Like the shock of falling in the lake.
284 It's then that I noticed dad marching towards us through the water. You could tell he was extremely aggravated.
285 "Vich calm down, I've got this" she said, but he completely ignored her and just stomped right on past her walking up the steps to me. Oh shit! I knew something was seriously off now. I gripped as hard as my little arms and legs could possibly muster.
286 Vich started to try and pull me loose with all his might. I started to fuss, eventually just calling out "Mama! Mama! Save me! Save me!".
287 "Vich what in the hell are you doing! Stop! I said Stop!" she pleaded, but he completely ignored her. So when words didn't work she started to try and pry him off of me instead. "Vich leave our son ALONE!" she said with a tone of growing distress.
288 My father finally pushed her away, and with all his might he literally pried me off the bars with all my claws scratching across the metal. "Ma! Ma! Mama! Help me! HELP ME!" I screamed as he proceeded to carry me to the deep end of the pool. It's like nothing was going to stop him. Somehow I knew what he was planning to do. He was just going to toss me in. I couldn't understand why, but I knew that's what he was gonna do none the less. The fear and terror began to flood my brain and all sense left me. Tears began to stream down my face and I started to make incoherent chipmunk chatter. No doubt everyone was horrified by what was going on but no one knew quite what was going on or what they should do about it yet.
289 At last he stopped dead at the deepest end of the pool, and just stood there for a moment, as I hopelessly tried to struggle, knowing it was futile. Knowing I was powerless in this situation.
290 Was he relishing my anguish? Loathing my timidity? Who knows.
291 At last I was forced to confront his face directly. He held my arms down and pointed me directly towards him. I looked him in the eye and became transfixed before I had a chance to look away. Caught in a predator-prey gaze that I could not break I was so afraid.
292 What I saw was pure nothingness. A blank expressionless face. His eyes were narrower than I had ever seen them before. But other than that terrifying empty stare, there was nothing. Had he gone completely feral in that moment? Possibly. Perhaps he was in a rage that went beyond what words could express. That which could only be felt at a visceral and animalistic level.
293 I was shivering in terror, and my breathing was uneven and shaky. I knew that all that lay between me and the water was my father. If he decided to throw me in, there was nothing I could do to stop him. I did the only thing I could think of ... I begged ...
294 " ... d-d-dad ... p-p-please ..."
295 Big mistake! He didn't like that. He grimaced. I saw his face tighten and his eyes somehow became even narrower ... and with that he tossed me in ...
296 I see the memory play out as if in slow motion, a slow and terrible sinking feeling engulfs me as I drift through the air, all the while seeing my father's terrifying eyes staring directly at me. In those brief moments I experienced something I struggle to put adaquately in words. I was being both literally and figuratively ... tossed away. Abandoned.
297 What is the greatest comfort to a child? The love and protection of their parents. So what is their greatest fear? It is not merely to be abandoned ... but to be turned on. To be destroyed by the only ones who love you ...
298 What do pups experience when after just being born the mother decides to eat them instead of raise them? What absolute sense of terror and rejection does that entail? What does that feel like? What could be sadder and more disturbing? All that instinctive and involuntary love and vulnerability that a child possesses ... to be betrayed ... to have their one hope of life turn on them ... to have the whole world turn on this helpless being ... for its screams to be unheard in an uncaring world where even it's parent does not love them ...
299 That is the feeling I get. This memory is tainted with rejection and fear. Fear that my love should be returned with hate, or my kindness with cruelty.
300 It's a horrible thing to think about ... and a horrible thing to describe ... but this is the closest I can get to describing the feeling of shock and disbelief I had as I plummeted towards the water. Did I scream as I fell? I think so, and if I did it was not just a scream of fear ... but of emotional dispair ... not just at the impending fate that awaited me, but because my father willingly and deliberately sent me there. His eyes told me there was no mistake. He purposely threw me in. And for what reason? Why would he do such a thing to me?! I could not understand ...
301 Because I had been thrown with quite a great deal of force, I did not simply find myself just above the surface. No ... it was so much worse than that. The impact forced me deep below the surface. I can hear the loud splash as I enter, as if it's happening right now. I see the surface move further and further away from me, all the while I can make out the form of my father jostling about and extremely distorted by the splash. No longer my father but a malevolent force hellbent on my demise.
302 I felt the water rush into my lungs, for I had failed to close my mouth or to stop breathing. I felt and saw myself sink to the bottom. I felt my back lightly make contact with the floor for a brief moment with a soft thud. The distortions gradually began to become more focused as I stared up at my father from what felt like a mile beneath the water.
303 I was now completely surrounded by water, both outside and from within. I tried desperately to breath but I couldn't. I felt panic and pain fill my lungs and my heart and my mind and my soul. An overwelming sense of hopelessness and despair. There was nothing left to do but suffer.
304 I quickly gave up my struggle though. What was the point? Here I was surrounded by nothing all around me and within. But in a sense that separation already existed. No one wanted me or liked me. No kid at least ... and the one that seemed like they did ... well ... I was probably never going to see them again anyway, even if they did exist, I thought to myself. So it was hopeless. I might as well accept that I'm alone and will always be alone.
305 And what of my father? Why did he throw me in? This I asked myself as the image of him becomes more and more focused. I could start to make out his face.
306 Then I saw something ... something I am not entirely sure is real. My father was grinning .. and not just any grin. A sadistic grin. In that moment I was convinced that my father had thrown me in with the intent to kill me. I didn't just believe it, I felt it. I couldn't fathom why he'd want me dead at the tender age of three and a quarter, but in my mind my father had thrown me in to get rid of me and was happy to see me finally drown. I have believed that for many years, and I have put this memory out of my mind for just as many.
307 I couldn't fathom why he would do such a thing, but I felt very strongly that it was real. That it wasn't my imagination.
308 When I drowned in the tub, he had come to save me. When I fell in the lake he had dived in to save me. This was different. He had thrown me in ... and as I began to fade looking up towards him, I could finally see, he was not going to dive in after me. He was not going to save me. He was going to leave me there to die.
309 Then he did something you might scarcely believe, though I swear it happened. He walked away. He turned his back on me and walked out of view. That to me clinched it. He was abandoning me to my watery grave. What other explanation could there be? And what else was there for me to do than oblige. Maybe in dying that was the one and only way I could please my father ... and so ... I closed my eyes and did as he wished ...
310 I know what you are thinking. He was not trying to kill you! That doesn't make any sense! In public? With so many witnesses? Obviously he meant for you to sink or swim. He thought if he could just force me to confront my fear head on, maybe my will to live would naturally kick in. I would fight to survive. And then I'd understand, he did not do it out of hate but out of love. To make me stronger, better. To show me my fear was my greatest enemy, not the water itself.
311 Looking back at this memory, I rationally understand this. That his real intention was to push me to be stronger. And he felt the only way that could be done, was to push past my resistance and my fear. Force me to confront it head on. He thought I'd fight. That I would assert my will to live. Instead I was willing to die for him. The sad thing is ... I think ... that is what disappointed him the most. Maybe in his own strange way, by pushing me away, he hoped I would reject him and become stronger. Instead I gave up. Not even after a little while. I didn't even try to fight it. I accepted it. I accepted it because I thought it was what he wanted.
312 A part of me wants this to be true. That his actions were purely motivated by what he thought was in my best interest. After all, it was my father's idea to bring me to the pool to over come my fear in the first place. I have heard that other father's have thrown their sons into the deep end, and it has sometimes worked. The automatic fight instinct does kick in and they learn to stay afloat. It did not work in my case however.
313 Had my father given up on me in that moment? When he walked away? Or was this yet another attempt to motivate me? To show me he was not going to save me. That I would in fact have to rely on myself. Was he prepared to jump in after me if I truly did not rise to occasion? I was still his son, for Yah-Hasha's sake! Surely he would not actually let me drown ... in public of all places ... that's absurd! Right?! Right!? ...
314 tear's ran down my face ... because deep down I wanted to believe it ... but couldn't
315 It makes more sense that my father was pushing me ... rather than attempting toddlercide. I really want to believe this! I know I really should believe this! I know that this feeling is something I created. Because my young and addled mind could not understand my father's intentions ...
316 ... and yet ... no matter how irrational the belief is ... I still can't stop feeling like it's true. That somewhere deep down in my father's black heart ... he truly did want me dead. That this was a test to see if I was worthy of his consideration. And if I couldn't meet it ... well ... I might as well be dead.
317 Again, I couldn't understand it at the time, even as I felt it, but now, I think I can grasp why that might have been. Perhaps I was a mistake. My mother would never admit it, but I don't think my father ever intended to have me, not with my mother at least. Some part of him blamed me for being born. He never wanted a prey son. He wanted to raise a predator.
318 I held him back. But more importantly, if I was to be his son, I made him feel weak and ashamed of himself. Something about my fey nature, reflected poorly on him. My lack of understanding, my brokenness, these were things he could not tolerate. Perhaps he wanted to see some sign, some indication, of the fox inside. All he saw was a skittish and scatterbrained chipmunk. A creature too stupid to live.
319 And so he wanted me dead. Just like animals will kill and/or eat their malformed young. I was not worth wasting resources on. That is, if it weren't for our anthropomorphic nature, he would have taken my life.
320 But Jonah, I hear you say, this is still just a projection you are creating, a fantasy! Surely your father loved you? You don't think he feared for your life when he dived in the lake to save you? That he was not relieved when you we're okay?
321 But that's just it! Furs can be irrational. He could have still wanted to save me in that moment and to live and want me dead in the next. It doesn't have to make sense! I want to be with Jonathan, but I don't want to want to be with Jonathan if he doesn't want to be with me ... and yet ... I still want to be with him ... even if that's true! What sense does that make? How can I want something and not want something at the same time!?
322 You see, with that understanding, my father really did want me to swim! He really did want me to grow and be strong ... and yet ... at the same time ... a part of him could hope that I would drown. Not on a rational conscious level, because with that come the implications of the consequences of such an action. No ... I mean on an unconscious and instinctive level. An attempt to kill me with plausible deniability. Because he never "intended" for me to drown. It was just an "accident". Am I crazy? Does that sound insane? I mean how could I possibly know such a thing, and through just a stare or a glance no less!?
323 And then the most frightening thing of all. I don't really know this memory is completely real. It's likely that my feeling of rejection, my terror of my father, has manufactured this memory. That I did not see the wicked smile of my father when it happened ... I only came to think that as the years went on ... and it became a memory of a memory of something that never happened.
324 But even worse than that ... is ... I know I can't really know for sure. I can't go up to my father and ask. I don't know where he is or who he is anymore. I barely knew him at all!
325 I am asking something about the state of mind of my father ... a fur ... I barely knew ... from a memory from before I could think properly. Where feeling was all that was real, and as a child I could plausibly imagine that my father would throw me into a pool to deliberately kill me.
326 This could all be in my head. Perhaps all these memories have been colored by my hatred of him, and a refusal to see anything good in his actions. But how could I ever know what truly was in his heart? Truth is, I can't ... not from vague memories, not without knowing more about my father ... and that is what scares me most.
327 That I can never really know ... not just about my father ... but about anyone ... about ... Jonathan even, even though I was closer to him than anyone I've ever known. How can I know what sturs in his heart? I can assume it beats the same as mine, but is that just wishful thinking too? If he told me he felt the same, would that prove it? He could be lying for my sake. But more to the point, how would he know? How could he see into my heart and being, and see that in fact, we are one and the same? That our love is of one cloth, one make. We would like to believe that we share some essential experience with others ... but ... we can't really know that, can we? We can only know what we feel and think, not anyone else ... and yet still ... I want it to be so ... I want him to know my heart, and I want to know his ...
328 I think that's why this memory has so much anxiety for me. Because it's ambiguous. Because it can be read in so many different ways with subtle shades of possibility. And I'm not here to say I know for certain how my father felt. I can only say how I felt about how he treated me ... and what I thought it might mean.
329 Darkness enveloped me and coldness consumed me. In that last moment of conscious awareness the thing that had first met me in the tub, then in the lake, and also frightened me in the closet, took me. Took me away from the pain and rejection. To be claimed by death ... was at very least to still be claimed ... by something ...
330 I believe my mother dived into save me. Maybe someone else did. I seem to vaguely remember muffled screams from my mother, as if I couldn't quite hear properly. I was resuscitated but I don't know by whom other than that it wasn't my mother. I don't think she knew how. But she was standing above me with tears in her eyes ... and then ... nothing ... nothing at all ...
331 ... I don't remember anything else after that ...
***
332 For the days that followed I would relive those moments, trying to find answers to what happened and why. I'd hold my legs together with my arms and rock myself on my bed. I ... I didn't want to deal with furs anymore. I didn't want to deal with the world anymore. I wanted to fold into myself and forget I existed. I wouldn't even let my mother touch me for days. I'd go into a panic. I was afraid of control being taken from me again ... by anyone.
333 Then one day, I heard them fighting about it. Grace blamed my father for how withdrawn I was behaving, and honestly, fuck him, of course it was his fault, no matter what nonsense excuse he'd come up with. But I did manage to hear one of my father's excuses. He simply said this, "he didn't even try to fight it". I could hear the disdain and disappointment in his voice. As if ... as if this was somehow an argument that justified his actions. I was a coward and a weakling. If I wouldn't fight to live ... I deserved to die.
334 No matter how cruel and insane that might sound, I internalized it, and for a time believed it. And as much as that hurt, it meant that my father's rejection was not absolute. For the first time I saw ... there was a way to win my father's affections. If I could prove my strength, then maybe, just maybe, he'd love me.
335 After the humiliation at the pool, after the pain had dissipated, an anger began to surface. A deep wound and feeling of hurt. A terrifying feeling that to not be loved, was tantamount to death. I was weak, and my father would not love me unless I was strong. Some part of me wanted to prove him wrong. To prove to him I was worthy. If he would not love me as I am, then I'd become something he could love!
336 I could not swim like a fox. It is said that foxes are good swimmers because they learned to cross bodies of water to hide their scent from predators. I had no such instincts. But I was a chipmunk. Perhaps I could prove my strength as a chipmunk, if not a fox.
337 There was a tree in our backyard. All my childhood up to that point I had not thought to climb it. It stood there as a barely noticed threat. An ominious specter of temptation. I'd look at it from time to time with a sort of feeling of being drawn to it, but I'd quickly look away and forget the feeling.
338 You might think it should come naturally to a chipmunk child. To want to and be able to climb trees. But whatever limited instinct I did possess was easily snuffed out by my fear. My fear of heights. I'd place an arm above my head, and almost immediately become too afraid to try and lift my weight. You might think this is strange. You are a chipmunk. Why would you be afraid? But I'm not a chipmunk you see. I'm a child. An anthromorphic child. Animorphic chipmunks are far smaller and lighter than any anthromorphic chipmunk, even a toddler or an infant. Our instincts have faded by our transformation, by our anthropomorphization. The reason chipmunks are fearless is because they can afford to be. Being so light means, if ever they did ever truly fall, well they could spread themselves out like a parachute. They could always land softly from any height. But this is not true for anthromorphic chipmunks, even children. I could not brace my fall like this. I would actually get hurt you see. But yet ... a trace desire remains I believe. A feeling of what one once was, an ancient memory, not in ones life, but in the fiber of ones being. I am a chipmunk. I will climb this tree I decided then and there. I will show my father I am not afraid. That I can conquer my fears. If not of the water, than of heights! I'd show him what I was capable of. I'd show him how strong and brave a chipmunk can really be!
339 And so, bracing myself I grabbed above my head and dug the claws of my right hand into the tree. My claws were a little longer than the average chipmunk, due to my father's DNA. My tail twitched with anxiety and anticipation. A fox would climb a tree too if it could. Was that also driving me forward? Like a hunger of a predator?
340 My fear was palpable, but I was not going to turn back now. I was going to show my father what I was capable of ... as the son of my mother ... and my father. And so I began to use my strength to lift myself. Instinctively my left foot paw gripped into the tree. Now I had only one foot on the ground. There was nowhere to go at this point other than to break contact with the ground.
341 So after a deep breath, closing my eyes, I pushed with my left foot and quickly grabbed with my right paw and braced the tree for dear life.
342 I opened my eyes. I had done it! I looked down. My feet were no longer touching the ground. I was indeed clinging to the tree. It was in fact possible for me to support my own weight on nothing but my claws. I looked up. Did I really dare keep going? No, said one part of me, but yes, said another, I couldn't stop now. I need my father to see. I needed to climb up to the branches. I gripped my right foot paw into the tree, and I began crawling up.
343 One step at a time. Each step increasing the danger. But the first few steps seemed easy enough. I just had to not think about it too much. My feet were already higher than my head would be from the ground. I looked up and the branch seemed so very far away. But I fought my fear. I ignored it. I slowly took another step and another step. Eventually I'd get there. I just needed not to panic.
344 Weirdly I found this all not very terrifying like I had initially expected. That was until the branch came just within reach. This was the point at which I became terrified. How was I suppose to get over to it? I'd definitely fall if I tried to reach over to it. I wasn't looking down but I knew I was very high up (for me) and I would get hurt if I fell.
345 Despite this I prepared to leap and try and grab the side of the branch with both my front paws. My legs instinctively curled up and my rear began to wiggle as I gauged the dangerous leap I was about to make.
346 And then, without thinking about it, I leaped, and for a brief moment no part of my body was in contact with any part of the tree. I managed to grab onto the branch but my legs had no where to go, and as a result my body continued to swing forward. I screamed out:
347 "Help! Help!", as my feet began to dangle freely in the air. I was terrified the bark would give way under my front claws and I would fall. So I desperately began to claw my way up with all my remaining strength.
348 As soon as I managed to get my body to the topside of the branch, I wrapped all my limbs as tightly around it as I could. Now what?! I was too terrified to do anything more but hold on for dear life now. The gravity of the stunt I had just pulled had rushed over me like a tidal wave, and I realized how close I had been to falling off the tree completely. "Ma! Ma! Help me! Help me!" I called out, hoping she would be able to hear me from inside the house.
349 It wasn't long until I heard my mother hastily running out into the backyard. "Jonah! You get down here this instant!" she barked.
350 "Ma! I can't! I can't! I'm afraid! Help me!". It had been hard enough to get up here. Climbing down now seemed a million times worse. My tail wrapped around the tree and I was prepared to stay up here forever if need be.
351 "Oh Jonah, I've told you to stop climbing things! Why don't you ever listen!" my mother lamented. "I know mom. I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please help me down!" I begged. "Oh hun, I don't know that I can. Vich, get out here! Our son got himself stuck up in der tree!" she hollered.
352 With my eyes still closed I could hear my father come outside. I felt a mix of feelings, vindication but also humiliation. Vindication that he would see I had challenged a fear of mine and conquered it. Humiliation in that I was now too afraid to move at all.
353 "How'd he get up there?" my father asked my mother. "I don't know. He must have climbed up there. That's the only way." she said bewildered.
354 "JONAH!" my father yelled at me. "Don't yell Vich you might scare him and cause him to fall". My father ignored this and shouted again "JONAH! ANSWER ME!"
355 I was indeed frightened by the yelling, but each shout just made me cling unto the branch even harder. None the less, I gathered my courage to answer my father, "Yes papa"
356 "Did you climb all the way up there yourself?!"
357 "... ye-yes ..." I said sheepishly. Was I in trouble? Was he going to beat and batter me again? Try and choke the life outta me because I hadn't listened to mom's stern warnings.
358 "Vich, don't be too harsh on him. Let's just figure out how to help him" my mother begged.
359 "Climb down!" he demanded.
360 No. He couldn't seriously be asking me to do that. There was no way I'd climb down, not even ... for him. Not even if he threatened to beat me into a bloody pulp for not complying. I'd rather be stuck up here forever.
361 "Jonah! Climb down, now!" he demanded again.
362"I CAN'T! I CAN'T! SO DON'T ASK ME TO! PLEASE DAD! I CAN'T CLIMB DOWN! I DON'T KNOW HOW!" I burst out.
363 "You can! You got up there didn't you! Now climb the fuck down!"
364 "I only know how to climb up! I don't know how to climb down! Please just help me! I can't get down by myself!" I protested.
365 "If you didn't know how to get down, why did you climb up there in the first place?!" he barked back at me.
366 Was he seriously interrogating me? Why, why wouldn't he just help me!?! For fucks sake! Why couldn't he show his son just a modicum of love! And then, I couldn't hold it back anymore...
367 "I climbed up here to show you! To show you I'm not afraid! I did it because ... because ... BECAUSE I LOVE YOU DAD! AND I WANTED YOU TO LOVE ME TOO!" I finally blurted out. I immediately gasped. I had said too much. Yes, it was an embarrassing admission to make. In fact ... when I said it, my eyes finally opened and I looked my dad in the eyes. It was as if I was surprised by the words myself. Loved him?! But he was so incredibly evil to me! Why, oh why would in the fuck should I love him?!
368 My father just stared at me for a moment. He didn't say a word. I didn't know what would happen now. I had just admitted my deepest longing, something I had buried deep within me because I thought my father would only ever return my love for pain. But now it was said and there was no taking it back.
369 "Jonah ... let go of the branch ... I'll catch you" my father said. I instantly broke into tears, both because I knew I was too afraid to do that, but also because I knew that this was my father actually extending his love towards me for the first time ... in his own way ...
370 "Come on Jonah. You want to show me you are brave? Then let go of the branch and let me catch you! Trust me!" he said reassuringly.
371 Trust him?! Trust him!? Trust the father that nearly drowned me, more than once! Trust the father that beat me on a regular basis. Trust the father who betrayed my love time and time and time again?!
372 At the same time, in the deepest corner of my heart, was a desire to let go, let go of my fear, not just of the fall, but of him, to just trust that he would catch me, to be embraced and loved at last. But there was a deep fear of betrayal. I know it sounds irrational, but I felt like he would fail. No he'd let me fall to my doom on purpose! Here was a perfect opportunity to see me dead. There was something else, something subconscious, that I only understand now. The irony was lost on me then but it's not lost on me now. Was I, a chipmunk, really going to let go of the branch and willingly throw myself into the arms of a fox? Think of how many foxes have hung hungerly below the tree to devour a careless chipmunk before!
373 Would I really risk it all? Just on the slim chance that this time, this time it would be different?! Not just in the case of me and my father, but that the deep rift of predator and prey should be at last bridged?
374 "I can't!" I tried to resist, even while every fiber of my being was beginning to kowtow to his will. It's hard to explain the power he had over me. Some part of me was so desperate to please him, that even now I wanted to oblige to what seemed like the impossible.
375 "Yes you can Jonah! You can! Stop sniveling! Here look!". I looked and saw his outstretched hands.
376 I looked him in the eyes for a while for any sign of malice, but there was now something else in his eyes that I hadn't seen before. I didn't know what it was at the time. I couldn't understand what it meant, but I felt drawn to it. It felt like love. I think ... I think my father was actually proud of me. I don't know this because I've gotten any better at reading his expression ... but just because it makes rational sense. When I finally showed him I was willing to push myself to earn his love, I finally received some.
377 "Promise, promise you'll catch me?" I said, actually considering his offer, as if negotiating with him.
378 "I promise. Now come on." he said.
379 A warmness began to fill my heart. Slow at first but definitely growing, as I saw those open and inviting arms, a chance at last for a genuine embrace ...
380 Alright. I will let go. Let go of the branch. Let go of my fear. Let go of my anger and resentment. Let go of my need to know. If I die now ... well ... at least this time it will be while showing my father I can face my fears, instead of me succumbing to them.
381 and with that I let go ...
382 A moment of terror and unknowing and uncertainty and then ...
383 I landed safely in my father's arms. I was safe at last. Without a thought I gave a hug to my father. "Thank you dad! Thank you!" I said tears running down my face. Tears of joy.
384 "Aw my two brave boys" said Grace as she hugged us both.
385 But then something strange happened. My father slowly unwrapped my arms around him. "Dad?". I didn't understand. He handed me to my mother ... and then ... he just walked away without a word. "Vich? Vich what's going on!?" my mother called. But he didn't respond. He just walked into the house and slammed the door. I looked at my mother and she looked at me, and then we just looked at the door together.
386 Just when there was finally a moment of closeness, my father pushed away. He never wrapped his arms around me. It's like he didn't know what to do with my love. It's like he didn't know how to handle being part of a family.
387 I will probably never understand my father. I will probably never truly know what struggles he went through that made him the way he was. But I know one thing ... for one brief moment ... he was my father ... and I was his son ...
388 ... at least ... that's what I chose to believe ...
...to be continued...
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