this afternoon I remembered a monologue from Edward Albee's play A Delicate Balance
AGNES
Hm?
TOBIAS
The cat that I had....when I was--well, a year or so before I met you. She was very old; I'd had her since I was a kid; she must have been fifteen, or more. An alley cat. She didn't like people very much, I think; when people came...she'd....pick up and walk away. She liked me; or, rather, when I was alone with her I could see she was content; she'd sit on my lap. I don't know if she was happy, but she was content.
AGNES
Yes.
TOBIAS
And how the thing happened I don't really know. She...one day she...well, one day I realized she no longer liked me. No, that's not right; one day I realized she must have stopped liking me some time before. One evening I was alone, home, and suddenly aware of her absence, not just that she wasn't in the room with me, but that she hadn't been, in the rooms with me, watching me shave...just about....for....and I couldn't place how long. She hadn't gone away, you understand; well, she had, but she hadn't run off. I know she was around; I remembered I had caught sight of her--from time to time--under a chair, moving out of a room, but it was only when I realized something had happened that I could give any pattern to things that had...that I'd noticed. She didn't like me anymore. It was that simple.
CLAIRE
Well, she was old.
TOBIAS
No, it wasn't that. She didn't like me any more. I tried to force myself on her.
AGNES
Whatever do you mean?
TOBIAS
I'd close her in a room with me; I'd pick her up, and I'd make her sit in my lap; I'd make her stay there when she didn't want to. But it didn't work; she'd abide it, but she'd get down when she could, go away.
CLAIRE
Maybe she was ill.
TOBIAS
No, she wasn't; I had her to the vet. She didn't like me anymore. One night--I was fixed on it now--I had her in the room with me, and on my lap for the...the what, the fifth time the same evening, and she lay there, with her back to me, and she wouldn't purr, and I know: I knew she was just waiting till she could get down, and I said, "Damn you, you like me; God damn it, you stop this! I haven't done anything to you." And I shook her; I had my hands around her shoulders, and I shook her....and she bit me; hard; and she hissed at me. And so I hit her. With my open hand, I hit her, smack, right across the head. I....I hated her!
AGNES
Did you hurt her badly?
TOBIAS
Yes; well, not badly; she...I must have hurt her ear some; she shook her head a lot for a day or so. And...you see, there was no reason. She and I had lived together and been, well, you know, friends, and...there was no reason. And I hated her for that. I hated her well, I suppose because I was being accused of something, of....failing. But, I hadn't been cruel, by design; if I'd been neglectful, well, my life was...I resented it. I resented having a...being judged. Being betrayed.
CLAIRE
What did you do?
TOBIAS
I had lived with her; I had done....everything. And...and if there was a, any responsibility I'd failed in...well....there was nothing I could do. And, and I was being accused.
CLAIRE
Yes; what did you do?
TOBIAS
I had her killed.
AGNES
You had her put to sleep. She was old. You had her put to sleep.
TOBIAS
I had her killed. I took her to the vet and he took her...he took her into the back and he gave her an injection and killed her! I had her killed!
AGNES
Well, what else could you have done? There was nothing to be done; there was no...meeting between you.
TOBIAS
I might have tried longer. I might have gone on, as long as cats live, the same way. I might have worn a hair shirt, locked myself in the house with her, done penance. For something. For what. God knows.
CLAIRE
You probably did the right thing. Distasteful alternatives; the less...ugly choice.
TOBIAS
Was it?