10/2024 samaqi: my spouse and I tend to swap behaviors when we grieve. I find myself curled up with my pen and notepad, jotting down thoughts. My spouse, who usually sticks to his computer, restlessly searches for things to clean, murmuring, "It's okay, it's okay."
We have been through many ups and downs together over the years, but this is the first time we face a loss within our shared "nuclear" family of three humans and four cats. We are waiting for the inevitable death of our first cat, who is the friendliest among his siblings. He is a great listener, a gentle companion who loves to circle around us and mark his scent. Upon receiving the bad news, my brother-in-law immediately books a flight, hoping to see our sweetest boy one last time.
It is happening. We are losing our first "child", as we affectionately call him in our native tongue. I need to capture this moment somehow while I can still write in the present tense.
Writing hurts. Then, writing heals. Just a bit, though, until time eventually arrives and takes away the pain written deep in our memories. Tears will dry and be replaced by nods, smiles, and stories that begin with, "Do you remember the time Monkey...?"
We love you, Monkey.
Maybe you'll be a Lion in your next life.
"You're late."
Dr. Cassidy frowns at me, and I grin awkwardly. Whoops, I thought she would at least give us both some slack since it's her first week back from her honeymoon. Before I can come up with an excuse, she opens the door with one hand and gives me a file with the other.
"Come on, we have a special case today..."
I quickly follow her and glance at the first page.
"Caraway?" I ask. "As in...?"
"Yes," Dr. Cassidy nods. "Don't tell anyone about this."
After the Hyne messenger returned the world's magic to the Highness, the veterinary industry unexpectedly blossomed, alongside niche sectors like exotic seafood. The reason: monsters no longer have magic. Scientists first consider genetically modifying monsters to feed the growing population, as the Earth experiences its first decade of positive birthrate in centuries. Then, more families find their dainty dish cute and expand their pet tolerance beyond dogs, cats, and Chocobos (though I honestly suspect many of these pioneer families are retired SeeDs). As such, there is a high demand of sending military forces to tame monsters.
One problem though, the Galbadian armies know only one thing: guns. Okay, maybe two, as I am aware that I am not generous, dear Galbadian officers who are reading my personal diary. Let me do it again. Galbadian armies are excellent at two things: guns and machine guns. There, happy now, government?
To up their skills in handling monsters without putting one hundred dents in their claws, we hire SeeD retirees to train us. Retirees, because they are cheaper with more years of experience. In five years, Deling has seen a surge of retired SeeDs migrating here, transforming our industries with their skills and inadvertently reshaping our real estate landscape. I could ramble on about my rent, but more on that later.
Beyond the door adorned with a happy puppy painting, separated from the festive lobby full of Halloween decorations, lies a maze of offices, labs, and exam rooms. My heart pounds as I imagine the pet owners mentioned in the file I am holding. She always appears in her baby blue dress in the newspaper. She must be close to 30 now, but I've heard that sorceresses retain their youth at the point they become Hyne's descendants. Hence I should be looking at a teenager in a few minutes. Her Knight used to be a handsome teenager who matures beyond his age and even ages more after two Sorceress Wars. They were rumored to have a newborn, yet the truth about these unfortunate celebrities is often unconfirmed.
As I enter the emergency room, a completely different scene greets me. Our old computers have been replaced by touch screens displaying holograms of video conferences and dog anatomy. Being a native Deling resident, I thought I understood how advanced technology could be. Amidst the dog nerve systems are tiny colorful particles that resemble dust. It's well-known that long-term magic casters, regardless of their species, can accumulate magical residues that crystallize into visible masses. These tiny crystal particles vibrate with each magic cast, enhancing spells but also disturbing other native cells. As a result, magic casters often die young or live indefinitely with the help of cell modification like Esthar's Machivie army, although I wouldn't consider Machivie human... but I digress.
I find neither Sorceress nor Knight in the room. Five Estharian personnel are engaged in video conferences, their fingers dancing on virtual keyboards as they connect our robosurgeon network with Esthar. In one corner stood a woman and a man who appear to be from Trabia and Balamb Gardens, as indicated by their uniforms. Trabia Garden, though less well-known, trains the best technicians and doctors, while no military institution dares to compete with Balamb Garden's prestigious mercenary program. Galbadia Garden was long disbanded after being repeatedly used as a war vessel in the last two Sorceress Wars. The former Caraway administration, though known for its tough policies, wouldn't risk provoking the rest of the world by involving Galbadia Garden in any further conflicts.
"Where is Angelo?" I ask Dr. Cassidy.
"Shh... don't use any names here…" Dr. Cassidy raises her eyebrows toward the ceiling, indicating that we are under surveillance. "She will be here in a few minutes. 3D scan."
I nod. "Red blood cell count is below 10 over 48 hours. Broad-spectrum antibiotics are ineffective after 24 hours. Clean X-ray. Cancer?"
Dr. Cassidy shrugs, and I nod in return. Our vet hospital is the most advanced in the region, which means we typically serve powerful pet owners who don't accept cancer as an answer. Angelo has so many crystals in her body that the chance of mutation is too high. Looking at the seemingly clear X-ray and knowing that Angelo is undergoing a 3D deep scan, I suspect they hope to find a few micro-tumors to remove with the highly precise robosurgeons.
I rotate Angelo's inner system hologram and count the glowing crystal dots. "I bet we're looking at around fifty tumors, if we're lucky."
Ten minutes later, the scan results arrive. I was off by 50 percent—77 tumors in total. Most are in her uterus, a common spot even for female magic casters, followed by a third in her brain, with the rest scattered throughout her body.
The tumors in the brain are particularly tricky. Even if we manage to remove the crystals and tumors without killing her, no brain surgeon can guarantee that Angelo will remain herself. It's likely that she could become a monster. Then what's the point?
"What do they want from us?" I ask Dr. Cassidy. It doesn't take much beyond common knowledge to know there's no hope.
"Just a second opinion, that's all..." she shrugs.
I nod and put my signature next to hers on the diagnosis form. She takes the form and steps toward the SeeDs in the corner.
"Dr. Yue—our Head of Oncology—agrees with my diagnosis. We are happy to talk to you about a couple of options, including our euthanasia process for magic bearers…"
One of the Estharian personnel approaches me, asking to take away my smart devices. I look at my phone one last time to memorize today's date. Years later, I'll tell my children and grandchildren how I cremated the hero pet who defeated the future Ultimecia.
Until then, I'll pay her the respectful ceremony she deserves.
samaqi: Monkey is home. He drinks a lot of water then lays still in one spot. My brother-in-law will land in a few hours. We hope he'll make it on time to pet Monkey one last time. I managed to instill his paw in my kid's air-dry clay kit. We are giving him a lot of love.
I don't know when I will be able to post the next chapters, so here're the spoilers: they will be about Rinoa's seeking help from Ishtar—the Queen of Cards—to turn Angelo into a GF. Just so you know, Ishtar is indeed the name of the Queen of Cards in the French version. I had a completely different explanation for Griever, but hey, writers change their plans all the time. I'll turn Monkey the Cat into Griever the Lion in my story, ensuring he lives on in my headcanon forever.