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An Act of Mercy

Marc Colten

    There was nothing wrong with the cab, a modified and repainted used car that had already seen more than a lifetime of careless use before being put back into service ferrying people around the city. Of course it goes without saying that the cab was late, even though they had intentionally given the dispatcher a time fifteen minutes earlier than when they actually wanted to be picked up. Mr. Bergen said nothing about it, highly surprising for someone who, for the past seventy years, had tended to complain about anything that went even slightly wrong. Of course, he had already complained, without effect, about this entire enterprise.
    For most of the ten mile ride they sat in the back seat of the cab, stolidly refusing to talk, while Mrs. Bergen scratched their cat Mitsy under her chin. The cat was positioned facing left so that her one good eye was pointed towards Mrs. Bergen. The cat was very old and didn’t like to be handled by someone she couldn’t see. The merest touch on her blind side could set her to hissing and spitting. Occasionally the tabby would rub a cheek against her hand and Mrs. Bergen would wiggle her fingers. It was a little game they both enjoyed.
    “We don’t have to do this,” Mr. Bergen finally said. They were still a half mile from the doctor’s office and could still turn around. “No one asked me whether we have to do this today. Or at all.”
    “That’s because all you think about is length of life,” she said, “and not enough about quality of life. There comes a time when the decision has to be made.”
    “Not by us,” he said. “It’s not up to us.”
    His wife laughed. “So now you believe in God?”
    “There doesn’t have to be a God,” he said. “Life is enough. It goes on as long as it can.”
    “With pain and fear?” She lifted Mitsy up for a moment to rub the scraggly fur against her cheek. “How much is enough?”
    He watched as she carefully put the cat back into the towel she had placed in her lap for the cat’s comfort and the protection of her clothing. There was already a small urine stain on it, but fortunately not the result of a full discharge. The cat, who had come to them as a lively kitten, always mewling and scratching, had gone through all the stages of life and was now a shell of her once vital self. She spent all day on the often urine soaked newspapers spread out on the table near her favorite window, not even descending to the floor to use her litter box. In the past two years she had given up looking out the window and no longer reacted to the birds that flitted to and from the feeder hanging just outside. In her prime she would stiffen with excitement and tremble as she prepared to spring at them, although she had already learned that they were out of reach. Now she would not even get up on her shaky legs to approach the window. She just lay there waiting for Mr. Bergen to come and change the sheets for fresh newsprint while Mrs. Bergen held her. Afterward she would be returned to the table and a fresh meal put down for her. She would then be left alone to rest until it was time to do it all over again.
    The cab left them at the doctor’s office and went off for its next run. Waiting time was not in the Bergen’s budget. Their discussion from the cab continued in hushed tones in the waiting room as it seemed unseemly to let the staff or the other people waiting to hear them argue the way they had to the back of a cabdriver’s head. No progress was made in changing Mr. Bergen’s mind before they were called into the inner office. Mrs. Bergen carefully put Mitsy, still on her towel, down on the table.
    “Hello, Mitsy,” Dr. Cooper said, leaning down to pet and nuzzle the animal while carefully staying in range of her one good eye.
    “So,” the doctor finally said, “all questions answered, all doubts put aside?”
    “Maybe the two of you feel that way,” Mr. Bergen said, “but not me.”
    “Leo,” Mrs. Bergen said, “we’ve decided. It’s time.”
    The doctor reached out and took Mr. Bergen’s wrinkled hands in her own. “I know you were against this,” she said, “but even you must know that there comes a time when ...”
    He pulled his hands free of her gentle grip. “I know, when quality of life is more important than length of life. That’s all I’ve heard for the last two months. It’s so easy for you two, isn’t it?”
    “We’re fully aware of the gravity of the decision,” the doctor said. “Maybe I’m more used to it than most, but I assure you that it is not cruel, or unjust, or even unfair. Life has been lived and now there’s nothing left but to bring it to an end with dignity and compassion. I promise you it’s the kind thing to do. Can you trust me on this?”
    Mr. Bergen looked from the doctor’s kind eyes to the determined ones of his wife and knew that, yes, the decision had been made and that it was truly time.
    Dinner was a little late that evening with only the two of them there. The house was unnaturally quiet and Mrs. Bergen realized that the expected sounds of food being consumed were missing. She looked over and saw that, in her confusion, she had placed the dish in the wrong place. She moved the bowl from Mitsy’s blind side to within sight of her good eye. In a few moments the cat began to delicately lap at her food.



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