Special Needs

But, I love him. Why can't I keep him if I love him? He could just be an ordinary run off the mill horse or mini-horse. He love me, too. He sleeps with me, so why? I know why, but I do love him and I've had him for over ten years. See, what happened is they used to have disability dogs like seeing-eye dogs or hearing-ear dogs, but dogs don't live long, so the government decided instead of people who are disabled getting a dog trained for five years that will die by age ten, to train disability horses, since they live to be 30 years, which would give me, and others, a lot more assistance, but it wasn't fair, just like it isn't fair they're taking Jojo away. See, I have bipolar disorder (you can tell by my verbal diarreah) and this causes me to have panic attacks with my highs and lows. But, petting my pet horse calms me down and helps return me to homeostasis, along with my medication. But, with the disability, I lost a lot of rights. I lost my right to drive, my right to have friends, my right to buy property, to buy a car, to sign contracts, to get married, and to have my own kids and I looked up online (before the bastards took away my online rights) the UDHR. Maybe you ain't never heard of no UDHR before. Well, in 1948, the UN (United Nations) made a document called the UDHR, which stands for Universal Declaration of Human Rights, which include the right to have friends, to send and receive mail (which may or may not include e-mail), the right to decide where I live, the right to leave a country of hostility, the right to get married and have offspring, and these are all things I want and goddamn it, it wasn't fair, so I started the appeal process.  

I was able to get a ride to the attorney's office by the attorney, since I can't drive because of these fucking bastards and she looked at the evidence and she agreed that I had a good case. But, I brought my horse with me (in the car and to her office) and Jessica (the attorney) said because I had the paper work, I could bring my horse with me. I gave Jessica all my information and she took photos on her phone, and the court was willing to hear my case. We brought up the FHA (Fair Housing Act), the ADA (American with Disabilities Act), the UDHR, the thirteenth amendment, the first and second amendments, and my attorney did a great job and the jury found in my favor. I hugged Jessica and left the court with my horse, Bobbie. But, now, I'm in the middle of packing boxes to move back to the house I moved in before here which is walking distance from my church and grocery stores and then these motherfuckers from the state of Georgia come in and tell me that . . . no wait . . . I forgot a part of the case . . . shit. See, the jury agreed I was right about the ADA, FHA, UDHR, the Amendments, etc., but they said that 'cause I was sitting, behaving the whole time, they wanted me to be reevaluated for bipolar disorder and I agreed. So, they sent me to a nervo shrink and she talked to me and did some tests and this motherfucker reported to the state and the jury I wasn't disabled and because I wasn't disabled, they think I don't need no motherfucking disability horse. But, she's my horse and I love her to pieces. So, I decided to call back my attorney and she answered the phone herself, listened, and sighed.

“Unfortunetely, they're correct. See, you were on medicare and medicare paid for your disability horse. And you did lose your rights, but because, according to the doctor, you don't have bipolar disorder, you don't need this horse. Think of it like a wheelchair. If a person can't walk, medicare will pay for a wheelchair, but if you can walk, medicare will take back the wheelchair and use it on someone who does need a wheelchair. Your horse was your wheelchair.”

“But a wheelchair doesn't have a soul, it doesn't get to know you. You don't fall in love with it and it doesn't fall in love with you.”

There's a pregnant pause and Jessica sighs again.

“Think of it this way. You're losing a horse, which does have a soul, but now you can talk to your friends, you can date men and cuddle with men, you can have children who you can care for and who'll care for you. Isn't that more important than an old horse?

I knew she was right. It was the logical and legal right thing to do, but the heart is never logical, legal, or reasonable, so I started by crying. I told Jessica I would call her back and I pleaded with the people from the state, but they showed me the warrant.  

They take her away with them and they're about to put her in one of those things attached to the back of a pick-up which holds big horses (even though she's a small horse), but she tugs at her leather and somehow escapes, light a frightened dog and jumps into my arms. I enter my home and lock the door. Goddamn it, they'll have to come in her with a battering ram if they want to take my baby. But, I here the doorbell ring.  

“We have a warrant, ma'am, and if you don't hand over this horse we will call the police.”

So, I get to the secret safe, unlock it, and take it out.  

I take my baby to the front door and open the door.

“Now, I realize this is difficult . . .” the young man says and I take out the gun from the pack of my pants and I shoot each one in the head, even as the other two are running away. Then, I take my horse out and put her in the car, get some groceries, clothing, and both of our meds, get in the car and start driving north. We need to escape before the real police find out.  

*

I know they can trace me if I use credit cards or debit cards, so I go to my local bank (first stop) and take out $4,534.00, leaving $5 so they won't close my account. One never knows. We're driving north. I remember in middle school, a cop told us the easier way to lose a gang that's chasing you is to go into a big crowd. It's difficult to find one person in a big crowd, except I got my horse. Want to go to a big city like Chicago, LA, New York, Atlanta, etc. Bigger the better. Lose the cops. Then, I see it, my least favorite colors: red, white, and blue and I hear the sirens. I pull over and hide my gun in the side compartment of the driver's door. Maybe I need to kill three people today. I look in my rear view mirror and realize the cop camera is on. Damn it.