Rattie Remembrance

I went to the Facebook page for Mesa Veterinary Hospital here: Mesa Facebook Page and dug up a few treasures.

Remus after his surgery in his collar. Which he hated.

He was a big boy!

Aww, look at this big cutie!

Yep, vet pictures. Gotta love it. My vet sent me a card following Remus's death (actually, following the deaths of all of my critters) and both of his vets wrote nice messages and they included a picture of the gal holding Remus in his collar. Which was so sweet and made me cry all over again.

I miss my ratties. Life is sad without them. I still look over to where their cage was. I catch myself walking towards their table before I remember that there isn't anything there. I don't have to save noodles and snacks anymore. It's just sad and a big adjustment for me. I am so used to worrying about them or thinking about them that it is hard to break that habit. I would give just about anything to have those things back.

I love and miss my rats. I just hope that they are together again and happy.

And Then There Were None

Today my little Remus died. It was very sudden and unexpected. He had been doing really well and acting normally. His appetite was still good and he was still lively and playful. I am not sure if it was a seizure, heart attack, stroke, or what, but it was fast and a little scary. But it was over quickly.

I took this picture of him today, shortly before his episode. I was telling him that he was going to be my witch's familiar for Halloween. He looked unimpressed.

The attack or whatever happened very quickly, but I called the vet to tell them we were coming in because he was having trouble breathing right after. He had stopped breathing by the time my shoes were on, but I ran him to the vet anyway. There was nothing they could do. I was able to say goodbye to him and he will be sent to be cremated.

Such an unhappy, wet rat. But cute.

It's so sad that such great little creatures live so short a time. Despite that, I love little animals and I hope that I will be able to have more rats again one day. It's hard not to fall in love and become a rat person.

Sometimes Remus just wanted to be with me.

I think I will miss talking to Remus the most, followed shortly by cuddling with him (though he was not always much of a cuddler), and sharing my food. Who will I share my food with now? I always give him a little tortilla in the mornings and a little bread when I make sandwiches. I always share my fruit and veggies with him and I loved it when he climbed all over me to try to get to my food.

It was so surprising that I think it will take a while to sink in. Everything was sudden and fast. I am so sad and heartbroken. The first thing I said when he was fading was, "I'm not ready." But I guess that's silly--who is ready to lose someone? I just thought I had more time with him.

I hope my boys are reunited, at least.

What I wouldn't give to share my food with him again. I miss my rats so much. Love you, little Remus.

Two Years

It's been two years (tomorrow) since I brought Romulus and Remus home.

Itty bitty ratties!

Baby Romulus!

Baby Remus!

Understandably, I still really miss Romulus. I think about him a lot and my heart still aches for him.

I'm still happy to have Remus. And we have gotten closer. We do alright on our own. But I can't help but think that we would both be happier if Romulus were still with us.

One of my very favorite pictures of them.

I'm a lot less angry now, but no less sad to have him gone. It surprises me how often he crosses my mind. The silliest little things will remind me of him. Like buying coffee. Yeah, long story.

I still have my mopey, sad moments where I sit and remember him and cry for a while. But I do try to focus my energy on good things, too. Like spending time with my Remus.

But Remus seems to be adjusted and doing well. I try to spend even more time with him. We have some fun and sometimes he will even play games with me.

I still think about getting him a friend, but I am reluctant. I have looked at a couple of male rats up for adoption, and I haven't found any that make me feel like it would work out. He really would have to be the right rat. And while I don't want Remus to be lonely, he also seems to like being the only child in many ways.

Who knows. Maybe I will find that rat, maybe not. I hope to have more rats in the future (possibly after Remus has passed on) because I love them so much. But right now, Remus and I are doing our best together! And I love the silly little guy to pieces.

Missing Romulus

Today I am really struggling with missing Romulus.

His memory is still so vivid that it is hard for me to comprehend him never being here again. How can he not be here when I can see him so clearly in my mind? If he were on the couch with me right now, I know exactly what he would be doing and where he would be going and where he would curl up to nap. And it's hard for me not to imagine him being here when we have been in this exact spot so many times before.

But there won't be anymore cuddles, licks, pictures, games, snacks, naps, and shenanigans. He was the best at getting into everything that I didn't want him to get into. And when I held him and scolded him, he knew I'd let him go if he reached out and licked my nose. Made my heart melt every time. I miss that. But I miss everything.

The vet called a few days ago for me to come pick up his ashes. And after three days, I still can't bring myself to drive all the way down there and walk through those doors again. It might make it all too real, and I can't decide if that is good or bad. I do know that it will hurt either way. That place is part of what made losing him so surreal. I never went to that office before, but ended up there three times in one week. The first time, my vet didn't have anyone available so they recommended I take him to this place to be checked out. A week later, I was rushing Romulus to their 24 hour emergency room at almost 9pm. I didn't leave until after 11pm. The next morning I went back to say good-bye. So the whole situation and the place don't seem quite real in my mind. I'm afraid to go back because it makes it all real again. And I'm not sure if that will help me come to terms with his loss or just make it worse.

His second birthday is two days away. I will have to do a little something for Remus, but it makes me feel Romulus' loss that much more.

My little heart is still so broken and there is not much that I wouldn't give to have him back. I know time will dull the ache and ease the pain. But for now, it still hurts and I still have to remember and cry. And apparently avoid that vet office. Maybe I will find some courage and go later. Seems better than going on his birthday, which is my next day off. Definitely not a good birthday chore.

Missing My Rat

Yesterday I had to put down Romulus. He got a respiratory infection, but his symptoms did not seem to indicate that. So I waited too long to bring him into the vet. We got him started on antibiotics and after several days, they weren't working, but I thought they just needed more time. So I didn't take him in until he was having severe trouble breathing (suddenly). I rushed him to the emergency room, crying and panicked. I kept him on my lap and basically refused to let go of him until someone finally came to put him into an oxygen box. That seemed to help and we added an antibiotic.

The next day he was struggling to breathe, even with the oxygen. Despite the care and drugs and oxygen, he was fading quickly. I had to make the horrible decision to put him down because I didn't want him to suffer anymore and there wasn't a chance of him getting better.

I feel like that was the right decision, even though it was a big one and I felt like I really shouldn't be the one to decide that. But it's hard. And my heart is broken.

The whole 24 hours or so seemed so surreal. I spent so much time in the ER waiting room and exam rooms and Romulus faded so, so quickly. It all happened so fast that I didn't get time to really adjust to his life ending and him being gone from my life. Usually when pets age, they decline slowly and you have time to prepare.

I put him down exactly two weeks before his second birthday. He didn't even make it to his second birthday. And that just seems horribly unfair. And I actually feel angry. I am used to my pets living a pretty long time and he should have had at least another year. So I can't help but feel that he is supposed to be here. I still expect him to be here. He was so cheerful and loving all the time, even when he wasn't feeling well (which is probably part of why I didn't realize how sick he was earlier). It is very hard for me to see my life without him. It was too sudden. And I know life isn't fair, but this seems so cruel.

To top it off, I feel horrible for Remus. He has always been with his brother. And I can tell that he is OK, but kind of mopey. I think it will be hard for him. And I feel like I should look into getting him a buddy (after some time), but he is really going to have to be the right rat. Romulus was SO easy-going and happy. Remus is sweet, but neurotic, anxious, and the dominant rat. I am pretty sure the only reason he was dominant is because Romulus let him and didn't care enough to fight for it. I would have to find a rat that would fit with him. Remus is kind of anti-social; its possible he will be OK on his own, but I don't want him to be sad and lonely.

Romulus and his little "meeps" when he was getting into trouble.

I keep expecting Romulus to be here. I miss him licking me all the time and playing with me. He was always the social one who wanted to come out and run around and be in the middle of everything. I will miss him trying to help himself to my food and drinks (Remus is too polite for that, the sweetie). I just miss him with an acute ache that makes my stomach tighten and my heart hurt. And I cry a lot. Sometimes randomly when a thought sneaks up on me. I also haven't been sleeping very well. I lay there for hours and just think about him. I feel lost without him.

 

Romulus kisses.

I'm glad I still have Remus and he still has me. I make him come out and sit and cuddle with me more (which he tolerates pretty well--he's not much of a cuddler). It's going to take a while for me to bounce back from this one. I try to keep myself distracted, otherwise I just cry all of the time. He was the best rat and he is sorely missed.

An Early Morning Post

It's about 5:40am on my day off.

Just woke up from a dream about Pico.

Despite his inbreeding, he died of old age, not illness, as far as I could tell. Though he must have had a tumor on his adrenal gland(s) if his hair loss and subsequent hair gain was any indication. He outlived any hamster I've ever had. And I have had more hamsters than I want to count.

In my dream, he was sick. He had large tumors on his sides (which another hamster of mine had many, many years ago). He was very sick and going to die soon. But despite all of this, he was still very sweet. My friend, Jhenn and I were watching and holding him and trying to make him comfortable.

Then I had to leave. Jhenn left and my mom appeared. We were getting ready to go and I just started crying and crying about Pico. My mom and sister and I were supposed to be going somewhere so we were all trying to shuffle out with me unable to see through my tears or hear over my heart-broken sobbing.

So I woke up and cried and cried. And I miss Pico with a sort of attached pathetic-ness that I've never experienced before with any pet I've ever had.

My mom days that most dreams about dead animals are visitations. Not long after he died, I had the most horrible nightmare that I hurt Pico and he cried. That nightmare still haunts me and brings tears of guilt to my eyes, even though it wasn't real. And there is no way that was a visitation from Pico. I can tell you exactly why I had that nightmare and where came from, but that's another story.

I've actually only had one other dream about Pico since then. And now this one.

While it was a very sad dream, it may be a visitation for this reason: the people in the dream with me. Not a lot of people understand my attachment to such small, short-lived animals.

Except Jhenn, who also gets attached to her small, short-lived animals and who was torn up by the loss of her rat several months before I lost Pico.

My mom, who has always been very understanding and supportive about everything, including the loss of those little lives that are so important to me.

My sister, who, growing up also shared a love of our little pets and who always tried to cheer me up by bringing a hamster to come visit me.

My brother could have been added to that list, he's pretty sensitive about such things. Even my dad could have been there-not because he understands my connection, but because he knows that they are important to me and that it makes me sad.

So there you have it. I felt very compelled to write and share this. Even before 6am on my day off. Thank you for listening. And thanks to the people in my life who care about their pets and about me enough to understand and comfort me.

Four Years Ago Today...

Pico and Gary were born. Those who follow my blog may be familiar with my hamsters that I loved so much.

I bought Raya on March 6, 2009 and two days later, March 8th, she had two babies: Gary and Pico.

They were very important to me. (See End of an Era.) I got more attached to them than I probably have to most of my pets (and I really, really love my pets).

I have been really bummed lately and missing Pico. It took me a while to realize that the reason could be his birthday approaching. Even after almost a year of him being gone and my life being so busy, I still manage to miss him like crazy. Sometimes I wonder if that feeling will go away. I suppose with time...

While I miss Pico with a pathetically sad ache, I always remind myself of our pet rats that we have now.

I'm sure some of you remember Romulus and Remus?

They are just as fun and adorable as ever. I can't get over how cute and silly they are. We love to have them around and they are so playful. They have brought so much to our lives already, and they are really only about 7 months old. Lucky for us, we still have years with them.

So while I am and have been feeling down about Pico, I am still so glad that we have Rom and Remus. I feel very lucky to have such wonderful pets!

The End of an Era

In memory of little Pico.

March 8, 2009 - June 4, 2012

 

Following an all-night vigil with my hamster, Pico, he passed away this morning. Why is this important? 

• One: I love my pets more than I like almost anyone else. For a long time, it seems, my pets and my hamsters were my closest friends and I get very attached to them. 
• Two: Pico was a unique, special hamster. He was smart and expressive, not to mention adorable.
• Three: I have known him all his life. I bought his mama, Raya, March 6, 2009. She had babies two days later and I ended up with a little family: Raya, Gary, and Pico.

I got Raya during a time of my life that was very difficult for me. It was shortly after the divorce of my parents, which I struggled with for a long time. I had left the college and roommates that I loved and was going to a school I hated with people I hated. Not long before, I had moved in with my mom and we were having difficulties concerning the divorce and her now-husband, Jake.

Raya eating my toast.

Raya means "friend" in Hebrew. And boy did I need one. She was so pretty and interactive. As soon as I put my hand in the cage at the pet store, she came to me and climbed on my hand. It was love at first site. So she came home with me. Smart little thing figured out the most efficient way of chewing out of her carrier box before I got her home to a cage.

Two days later, the boys were born. Raya wasn't the most attentive mother, she was more of a people-hamster, I suppose. They were so cute as babies. The fact that they were a bit inbred didn't show up until they were older. Pico was the runt and outwardly the most inbred, but Gary got sick several times during his life.

Babies! The one with more white is Gary. He looks a lot like his mama.

Bombarding mama while she is trying to run in the wheel.

Almost exactly a year ago, I lost Raya. That hit me very hard. A little over a month later, Gary died. That was a tough one; he was sick and I stayed up to hold him until the end. I still get sad, thinking about them. Especially Raya as she marked an important turning point in my life. I focused a ton of my time and energy on them, taking them out to be held and run in their hamster balls, cleaning cages, administering medicine and electrolytes... But they were all well-behaved (well, Raya could be a little rebellious and Gary did get awful tired of taking so much medicine, poor thing, but he always did without too many complaints and without any biting). They were a big part of my life.

Young Gary.

Pico, the mildly deformed runt lived on. He never got sick, even when Gary and Raya had bouts of a very contagious disease. Despite this, he took the medicine I gave him with no complaints (just in case. He never put on weight like the other two so had no reserves if he did get sick). He never bit me, even when I smelled like food or startled him. He was always sweet and gentle, even to the end. He was smart, too. I know that people probably won't believe me when I talk about brains and personalities of hamsters, but I spend an awful lot of time with them.

Pico. He had bat ears. And see the funny long tufts of fur? He and Gary both had those; a sign of inbreeding, I'd say.

Three years is about the maximum lifespan for a hamster. Pico is probably the oldest I have had (I'd say about 100 in hamster years). At about three, he began having problems: his back legs slowly stopped working. He could barely walk, but he still wanted to come out and run around. He could always tell when I was nearby (I'm sure he couldn't see well, if at all). If he wanted out, he came to the door and let me know by raising his paws. If he didn't, he would stay where he was. As the last couple months went by, he stopped being able to open his eyes and he could barely walk at all by the middle of May. Isaac would often go to his cage and ask "Still alive, Pico?" But I was convinced that he had something worth living for. Sounds silly, I know, but it sure seemed that way. And despite his decrepit condition, he crawled his way to the door to ask to be let out a few times. I am still convinced that he wanted to stay for me.

When I came home last night, I thought he was dead. When I petted him, I could see him breathing more (I could swear he was barely breathing when I got home, if at all). So I took him in the cage bottom with me and stayed on the couch with him all night, petting him and touching him and talking to him. During all of this, Isaac and I were having some disagreements. I suppose I shouldn't get too upset with him as he's never had many pets to get so attached to, but it's difficult when you are grieving. I'm sure he, like many others, doesn't understand how I could be so attached to something so small and ephemeral. I suppose I have a very soft heart. Maybe too soft. ("Her hand that was holding Calcifer squeezed... Howl and Calcifer both screamed. Calcifer beat this way and that in agony. Howl's face turned bluish and he crashed to the floor... She stared at Howl. 'He's faking,' she said. 'No he's not!' Calcifer screamed, twisted into a writhing spiral shape. 'His heart's really quite soft!'" ~Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones.) Even though he is a little rodent, that doesn't mean I can't love him and give him a good life, right?

So Pico lived all through the night, breathing steadily, but not rousing. Isaac got up and went to work and I stayed on the couch with him. I share my love of animals with most of my family and had already alerted my mom to Pico's condition. She came over and sat with me while I held Pico and cried. Then, once she was there, he took his last breath. I know this sounds silly, but indulge me: I think he was waiting to make sure someone was there with me. I know Isaac was there last night, but he didn't sit with me and comfort me, so I think Pico wasn't going to leave. Once he knew I was in good hands, he left. Call me crazy, but I believe this. Maybe if you knew Pico as well as I did, you would, too.

So I cleaned out his cage and put all of his things away in a box. His little body went into it's own bedding-lined box and we took him to the vet to be cremated (you have my permission to think I'm insane if you like, but living in an apartment, I have no place to bury him and I refuse to throw away something I love so much). Dropping him off was very, very heart-wrenching for me. It's so final and I can't explain it, but I almost felt like I had betrayed him in some way. I came home and tried to do a few chores, but really had no heart for it. I never realized how much I talked to him and looked in on him until he wasn't there. I would get up to go to the kitchen or bedroom or bathroom and I used to stop at his cage all the time. It feels very empty there now.

Later, my mom came back and she and her husband brought me the little bunch of pink roses shown above. It was very sweet. I put them on the table where Pico's cage used to be. That was shortly followed by texts from my sister and brother. They are sensitive to things like this, too. I guess you can tell we are related, right? I have the best family. They don't think I am nuts and they have a lot of sympathy for me. It was nice to know that they were thinking about me.

So thus concludes the end of an era. (I thought so in those terms as I sat watching over Pico and my mom said the same thing after he was gone.) I miss all of the pets that I lose. They mean so much to me and, in their own little ways, do so much for me. Raya and the boys were good for me and came during a time of great need in my life. Little Pico stayed longer and he took good care of me. I will miss them all, and I will miss Pico. Time to begin a new era. Thank you Pico. Love you all.

Pico and his 3rd birthday apple. March 8, 2012.

"Let this be my final lesson. Everyone and everything has a time to die." ~Sabriel by Garth Nix.