Chapter 23. Siboot

On Christmas Eve, 1985, I suffered a sad tragedy. While doing some morning chores outside, I spied our cat, Bootsie, whom I had not seen in several days. His absence was no cause for alarm; Bootsie was a bit of a loner and would often take off for several days. This time, however, I noticed something odd about him. Stepping closer to investigate, I perceived with horror that his lower jaw was hanging loosely from his head; something had broken his jaw.

I gathered him up into a basket and dashed off to the veterinarian, who upon examining Bootsie declared his condition hopeless. However, before recommending euthanasia, the vet offered to call a colleague who specialized in such injuries. A few hours later, he called me with the news that the colleague was willing to take a look at Bootsie. It was more than an hour's drive away, and I had plenty of time to contemplate the scenarios that were likely to arise. I knew that most of them concluded with euthanasia, and I struggled with tears as I tried to explain the situation to Bootsie, who was lying quietly in his basket on the passenger seat. Bootsie stared back at me with eyes clouded by pain. My fears were realized; the specialist declared Bootsie's injuries beyond repair. I therefore authorized euthanasia and drove home with his shrouded body.

Bootsie's death hit me hard; his mangled face still haunts me. For more than a week, I was unable to concentrate on my work. I was finishing up Patton Versus Rommel for Electronic Arts; the work was mostly mindless bug-fixing that required little creative energy, and so my creative juices were flowing in new directions, seeking new outlets. They mingled with the horror and sadness of Bootsie's death, and the brew simmered for several weeks. And then one day, whilst driving I remember the exact spot on the road where it happened the result boiled up out of my subconscious and shot into the open air. Talk to the Animals would be my next game. If only I had been able to talk to Bootsie, to explain the situation, to express my horror at his injury, to comfort him if only. The world is a sad place, and sometimes we cannot speak to those whom we must. But what if there were a world in which we could Talk to the Animals? Why couldn't I create such a world?

LESSON 59

Design springs from the heart.