If you love something, set it free

If you love something, set it free. If it comes back it is yours, if it doesn’t, it never was.

     I first read this quote by Richard Bach in 1981.  It was on an A4 poster with a watermark backdrop of a seagull.  A fellow boarder had it on the wall above her bed.

     Even as a 12 year-old I found the simplicity in this statement irritating, perhaps exacerbated by the insipid, pastel tones.  It may have been one of many catalysts that contributed to the development of my cynical nature.

     Anyway, it’s a quote that has stayed with me all these years.

     I’ve found it really only applies to rescued native animals and lovers.  Except with the latter, and I am referring to the past tense these days, that meant loveable, but not in the enduring sense. If they came back they needed an extra and very forceful push to go and stay gone.  And stray puppies and kittens, well, you can’t set them free. It’s best to call the animal patrol officer so they can be euthanized.  That way those rescued native animals you set free actually have a chance at surviving instead of being ripped to pieces.

     Richard Bach’s words of wisdom hit home the other day.  In the past few weeks, Pepper Zen had taken on the demeanour of an angel, or so I thought.  She’d stand in the middle of the yard and flap her wings looking beautiful and ethereal. I thought of the voluptuous renaissance beauties immortalised by Botticelli and Titian.  I glowed with pride each time she did this Angel's Wings routine.  It was a divine affirmation that my feathered friend was truly heaven sent.  

     The other evening Nicola and I were on the patio as Pepper and the children played in the yard.  Pepper did her Angel Wings routine, this time while running as fast as she could.

     “Isn’t she beautiful?” I said.

     “She’s starting to fly,” said Nicola, laughing.  I understood immediately why she was laughing.

     If you love something, set it free. If it comes back it is yours, if it doesn’t, it never was.

     Fuck that, I thought.  Pepper’s not going anywhere.

     “Where are your scissors?” I said, already at Nicola’s back door.

     And I cut Pepper’s right wing.