The Black Panther.

I have a panther, a sleek, black panther. It is not a black dog, oh no. I also have a black dog that slinks into my life, tail between its woe-is-me, quivering, shaky legs. It whimpers and whines, pitifully pawing until it draws me down to the floor to sit in an empathetic haze of misery for hours, days or even weeks. 

No, this is a creature of far greater ferocity. Sometimes it lies sleeping, content to rest camouflaged by the shadows of life.

 

Until injustice, discrimination, or the pure evil which seeps from the internally putrid will awaken it from its slumber with an almighty roar. Rousing it from a supine sprawl to stir, wanting, craving to pounce. Yes, my midnight shadow is an animal of black fury, justice and retribution. It is full of fire and fight, ferociously fierce in its defence of all those beloved in my heart. It leaps with rippling rage into my head from the slightest of provocation, willing me to release it to tear, mame, and shred with powerful, unforgiving, dark, dripping jaws.

I am forced to hold the leash tight, restraining my animal lest it do irreparable damage, keep it caged until all other options are depleted. And then, only then do I unclip the collar and finally permit those who transgress to feel the hot panther breath enveloping them as they face the big cat in full attack.

When Lori wrote of the battle to break with her black dog it struck home, and roused me to post of my dark creature. For whilst her black dog, like so many, is full of pain and bleakness, my midnight brute resonates with wrath and suppressed violence. Held in check by small, slender bars of logic, attempting to contain this living instrument of restitution.

Those held locked in my black panther's dark, steady gaze need to be afraid. Be very afraid.

The Monster Retires to Its Cave

I am feeling far more rational today, the rage has dissipated as quickly as it arose. Hormones, stress and unresolved resentment over the actions of people in my day to day life had blended to create a bubbling cauldron full of anger and angst. Exercise certainly helped, and I think my initial mistake was not attending the boxercise class that morning. All may well have been resolved with a few well-aimed, politically correct punches but instead it became a day of flaming fury.

On days like Saturday I know exactly where my oldest son's sense of justice and black & white opinions come from. In a perfect world those that do wrong would suffer the hellfires of painful punishment, in the real world they almost always get away with it, that is if they are not rewarded for their actions! Where are all the superheroes when you need them?

But, as it is not something I can change, I have to let it go. Any attempts to unveil the evil would merely result in fingers being pointed and more nastiness. The tragedy is the next generation witnessing and learning this behaviour will merely perpetuate the cycle. I wonder if these people think about what lessons they are teaching their children?

So, life moves forward. The manicness of work, holidays, kids, Nanna, work, house continues. But this time with an underlying sense of sanity. Calmness prevails (as much as it ever does in this family's life).