David J. Mauriello

May 10, 2009

The Connection

Filed under: Uncategorized — djmauriello @ 9:01 pm

The Connection


The Connection by David J. Mauriello ©

There was a child who talked to friends that only he and other children could see.

One day, after his mother put him out in his play pen under the apple tree that was pink and white with blossoms, the boy laughed and said, “Sumbata leq eli puswah.”

“Abatta wi?” asked one of his angel friends.

Gurgling with laughter the boy nodded and suddenly his dear angel friend Abatta bounded over the fence.

The boy and Abatta hugged and kissed and rolled over and over their limbs entwined.

“Ahee,” laughed the boy. “Grwoff, grwoff,” answered Abatta, his tongue licking the boy’s face and hair.

“Fa se tour wick a lat twoo se? the boy asked.

Abatta thought for a moment. He wasn’t sure he could grant the boy’s wish. A breeze shook the branches of the apple tree creating a shower of blossoms. Joyfully, the two friends interpreted this as a sign that Abatta would remain in the boy’s world as the boy had requested.

The boy’s mother called out “Bobby.” As she approached her precious child in his play pen she observed a large dog standing next to the boy. She felt a chill in her veins for the dog was bigger than the boy and had an unearthly look about him. Especially it’s eyes. They were golden and shining like the sun.

“Shoo, go away,” she snarled. Hoping to frighten the beast off, she picked up a large stick and waved it menacingly.

Abatta, who had no experience with animosity, was confused. He leaped from the pen and disappeared over the fence.

Bobby cried “Noo.”

His mother embraced Bobby, showering his tear filled face with kisses. “Don’t be afraid, he’s all gone, all gone. Big bad monster is all gone.”

But Bobby cried even more and reached his small hands in the direction where Abatta had jumped the fence.

“Abatta, Abatta,” cried Bobby when his father entered the bedroom later that day.

“What is he saying?” the father asked.

“He’s still frightened. That dog..”

“Oh yes. Don’t worry. I had my laboratory assistants hunt the animal down. No one has claimed him and he’s a wonderful specimen. Just what my students needed to practice their surgery techniques.”

“But how do you know it’s the same dog?”

“You said it was very large and it had strange eyes that had a golden glow.”

While feeding Bobby the next day, his mother noticed his face darken. For a moment he didn’t move, then he convulsed in the high chair, vomiting his food. He screamed as if he was in great pain. Minutes later Bobby and his mother were in an ambulance being driven rapidly to the hospital.

Bobby had stopped screaming but appeared to be in a state of shock.

“They don’t know what’s wrong?” His mother shook her head as Bobby’s father hugged her in the waiting room.

“We’ll keep him over night,” said a doctor,” and put him through more tests tomorrow. Why don’t you go home and try to get some rest.”

Finally Bobby’s mother fell asleep. His father, puzzled and concerned, couldn’t sleep and went to his study to review some of the work his students had done in the research laboratory that day.

The folder was marked “Sunny”, the name given to the stray dog because of the unusual color of this eyes. The date that Sunny was captured was noted. There was also a complete description of the dog and the specifics of the experiment that it had endured that day.

“Fractured left front leg with hammer. Animal kept conscious to study full effect of trauma. Vocal cords cut to eliminate screaming. First major surgery for the student in charge. Required repeated blows to fracture the bone. Animal fully restrained by harnesses. Convulsions. Incontinence.”

The next day one of Sunny’s hind legs was broken and repaired with a steel pin.

At the hospital Bobby went into severe convulsions and had to be given great amounts of pain killers. His temperature rose to an alarming number.

“Sunny’s temperature is dangerously high,” one of the students observed, “and his heart is very erratic”. He turned to Bobby’s father. “I recommend that we schedule the open heart experiment immediately before the heart deteriorates, robbing us of any meaningful results.”

Sunny, fully conscious, was forced to lie on a metal table on his back. Harnesses bound him; only his ears, eyelids and tail could move. His four paws were each tied and secured outwardly so that his chest and stomach were totally exposed and vulnerable. As the scalpel cut Sunny’s body, students exposed his internal organs by pulling on his muscles and bones with metal tongs.

The dog’s heart could be seen beating rapidly. A student slipped a gloved hand into Sunny’s chest.

“God, it’s beating in my hand!” gasped the student in an excited and triumphant voice.

Careful not to break the heart’s connection to Sunny’s body, the student held the dog’s heart so that the other students could see and marvel at it. In their excitement they did not see the light draining from Sunny’s eyes. But when the room darkened they looked about mystified.

At the hospital, the machine monitoring Bobby’s heart began to beep faster, a warning that the boy’s heart was failing. The nurse rang the alarm and doctors and nurses came running.

At the laboratory, Bobby’s father nodded to the students as if to say “Well done, well done.” He had been watching closely, trying to gauge whether the light in the dog’s eyes or the dog’s heart died first. The students waited, hoping he had found the connection he was seeking. When he looked up at them he shook his head. “We will need another one to experiment upon.”

Bobby’s mother and father sat under the apple tree. She was too exhausted to cry anymore. She looked at her watch. “Gone, my baby has been gone for six hours. He died at exactly twelve noon.”

Bobby’s father jerked his head upwards as if some alarming thought had occurred to him.

“What?” she asked.


The next day he opened Sunny’s folder. Under the heading “time of death” a student had written “twelve noon.”.

The father shivered. Was this a simple coincidence? As he noted the connections between the experiments on the dog and his son’s experience, he grew more and more frightened. Simultaneously he was aware that he was receiving intimations of a profound revelation.

He bowed his head. “It can’t be, just impossible that..no, can’t be.” He found himself trembling because of a startling and awesome insight. He reached for his journal and began writing.

Many hours later a student interrupted him. “Excuse me doctor. We have another dog for your experiments. Do you want us to prepare it for surgery?.”

“No. The laboratory will be closed. I have a new theory. It will need experimentation. The first step is to see that the dog is fed and well treated. Hold it in your arms and love it. Allow it to play. Be sure it lives as nature intended it too.”

As he handed his journal to the student, he said “I want everyone to read this immediately. I am calling an emergency meeting of the Board of Overseers.”

The student opened the journal. It was titled “The Cruelty Connection.”

end- The Connection


1 Comment »

  1. David, I read this before, but I do not remember where, but I do remember it was quite a while ago. I had no idea you wrote this. I remember reading it, because it is something that you do not forget once you have read it. It is so sad what is going on in this world with people, animals, wildlife, etc. I’m with you on that for sure. I told Jeannie a weekend would be best because all the boarders are usually there, hence the horses are out and milling around.

    Comment by Judy (Jeannie's friend) — December 16, 2009 @ 9:41 pm | Reply

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