Death Didn't Come For The Demon

Wooze was 16 years old when he died. I gave him that name the night Dad brought him home in a bag from the cold after he was found by our neighbour.

His name came from Wuss, to mean someone scared, because he was scared of everything that night and at that age it was one of only a hundred words I knew. Mum and Dad said it was perfect and so did my sister.

Wuss then became Wooza which became Wooze, each name chosen by him, in a way, as his personality changed from panicked to wary to a laid back kind of slacker who couldn't keep his tongue in his mouth half the time.

Wooze was the first of three cats our family owned. But I never saw him that way. Owned. His tuxedo coat made him too dapper for that. We became the best of friends, he and I, but he was never mine, unless you count friends like you own them too.

He moved in with me after I'd moved out of home and three more years he lived before he got sick and then really sick before I gave in and had him put down down the road.

I can't remember ever crying so much as I did that day, not until my son Tom died last year, just the same as Wooze did. 16 years old and sick and then really sick. But he never wanted to be put down like Wooze had been.

I wish he'd wanted things that way. To be put down. Even though allowing a son to be euthanised never crosses the mind of a father. It's only after that you see it as mercy, which it would've been if not for the pain he went through.

Death came early for Tom. He'd been in hospital for three months and the cancer had spread like burning stones in his lungs, and the doctors said he had six months left at most.

Tom who'd been Tommy, who'd been my beautiful boy.

And just like Wooze, he was buried in a tuxedo.

The nurse who did it didn't look like Death, and Death was an Angel who took souls up to heaven.

She was a demon in a blue dress taking souls for herself, who put Tom down with a poisoned needle.

Now she's shackled in a courtroom all dressed in orange, and sentencing shouldn't be too long from now.

I'm almost there, in fact. Can't wait to see her. The press are already gathered next to the crowd, all waiting for when she's moved out the courthouse to the wagon.

It was easy enough getting the credentials to get close. It's been three years since his death and journalism wasn't hard compared to the military.

Cannot wait to see her. The pistol in my coat feels just the same way.

A bullet might be too quick for her, but it can put a demon down much better than a needle.