Wings

Anything is possible in Heaven, especially across the Rainbow Bridge, where animals are reunited with their housemates or families that have gone before them. 

Patches passing was unexpected.  Whatever took her had been building over a day or two, though with rabbits it's nearly impossible to know until it's almost or in fact too late.

A sound I never want to hear again came from somewhere in the room I just happened to be present and standing in.  At first I had no idea where the sound was coming from.  I looked down to see her roll over convulsing.  I couldn't revive her.  CPR had worked on a kitten before.  Not this time. 

Sunday.  Places nearby, though no vet present, or even a stethoscope.  By the time an open office was reached it was confirmed she was gone.  She was taken quickly in the towel I had cradled her in the entire way searching for someone with a stethoscope that could possibly resuscitate her.  I had apologized and spoken to her in my lap the entire drive to now four places.  I couldn't bear to go back into where they couldn't get her back to say 'goodbye'.  I asked the assistant who was so kind to promise to give her a last hug for me.  She promised. 

I buried Charlie at the beach, with markers the locals added to over time, unaware they were to honor a beloved pet who had saved a child's life.  Patches would be in a smaller box: her ashes, for her original owner, the same child, now a legal adult.

I was in between obligations that day.  The window of time between allowed for getting her to a place that could only confirm she was gone.

The first pet that saved my son's life passed two years ago in the same month.  She tried to 'say goodbye' when I was in denial as well, even though her illness was known and couldn't be treated.  An hour and a half later she was gone.  I didn't take it well: why I changed majors from vet school to fine arts.  I don't do well with death.

Patches leaves her mate, a year older and not as energetic as earlier days.  The cats lounge closer as if to comfort him.  At least one was doing the same near Patches lately though I'd no clue anything was wrong.  She wasn't picked up daily, or maybe I would have noticed the hardness in her midsection.  Or maybe it happened the same day she screamed.  It keeps running like a reel repeatedly in my head.

Not unlike the death of the first and second small mammals we've had, mourning is only slightly less time than losing a human family member.

She had an actual perfectly mirrored wing pattern on her back exactly where wings would be, if rabbits had them. 

I attended church last night, and the tears came back.  When two or more are gathered, the presence of Spirit is felt.  I saw Patches in His lap; He was welcoming her.  After He hugged her, He stroked her back and her 'wings' became elevated and three dimensional.  She left his lap to join her friends that had gone before her by flying down to them. 

'Binky' is the word for a rabbit jumping up in joy and contentment, which hadn't been seen here with Patches or her 'husbun' for awhile, due to their present ages.  'Popcorn' means the same thing, for a guinea pig.  All were respectively 'binkying' and 'popcorning'.  Charlie could jump three times her height standing up when she was young.  Patches and Charlie took turns to see who could go highest, with Smandie looking on, smiling and 'popcorning' herself.  Patches can go higher now, though there was no reason in the joy of the moment, being with her friends. 

1 Corinthians 2:9 : God can put wings on any animal he chooses.  When Patches crossed the rainbow bridge and met Him after her 'family' reunification, her wings became real.  Lots to do here, though am looking forward to seeing them, very much.  Grateful for the comfort of Spirit...

Ulysses & His Lady

Cried when it came time for him to go. He was wanted.  And special.  His name came from a Civil War general, not to acknowledge the side the general represented.  It was because of his color and the intensity of his eyes.

He was loved and cherished, and so much more was wanted for him.  For him to have more time out to play, and treats much more often.

He loved to be petted under the chin, and would turn his head to provide maximum surface while enjoying it.

No ordinary chinchilla, a subspecies indistinguishable from others unless compared or held to notice the shorter length of his body.  If it had anything to do with his disposition and uncharacteristic willingness to be gently held is unknown.  What we do know is he represented how unique an individual creature can be.

His housemate had gone to be with another companion the year before. They were more compatible, which was also unknown until putting them together, not unlike the neutering Ulysses was put through made no difference in helping his house mate's inability to become his roommate. Together, there was sadly only aggression from the former lady.

It was unforeseen until on the horizon Ulysses would be going to join his former housemate and her roommate, and as unforseen that Princess Littlepiddles' name would be changed to the same as the wife of the general after whom Ulysses had been named.

After the tears, and Ulysses had been transported to meet his new family, which included a little girl happy to have him, once his large cage was reassembled, it was again confirmed the reunion with his former housemate was not as happy.  However, the other lady he hadn't met was another story.

I wasn't there to witness the meeting, though apparently it went so well that Princess Littlepiddles' name became Julia, the same as the general Ulysses' spouse.

It was easier not to be sad as long. Knowing that not only was Ulysses loved by more people in the same home, he also had a companion that could contribute to a longer and happier life just by being with him.  Along with his new human family, who multiplied the attention he deserved, Ulysses now has one of his own kind with whom to cuddle in a way only the two of them can.

Shadow

Was Grandma's cat's name.  When she got too old to be around anymore, I was very upset to come to the house one day and find her gone.  I had grown up with her, and was not informed when it came time to put her down.  I forgave Grandma in due time, though never quite got over the loss.  Loss has taken a toll many times since then, and whenever a wound is not healed the next becomes more difficult to bear.

It was love at first sight at the pet store.  Had never heard of a lionhead rabbit before.  I had wanted another, that was quickly sold.  My son picked her out the next time we went back.  She was the second, one was not enough.  We had to separate them when they were still very young when one we named Cleo for Cleopatra because of beautiful eyes turned out to be a boy.  We noticed boy parts when they were playing together.  The name then became 'Leon'.

She has been a very lovable princess, who does not often get along with other bunnies.  Except for Leon, after he was neutered.  Shadow was spayed as well.  Bunnies who are not spayed and don't mate have an 80% chance of getting reproductive cancer.

She was always different, including her mornings, when cleanup took more than Leon's, though it was no problem.  We loved her no matter what.

We've all been under stress, and animals feel it too.  I don't know what happened when she was boarded for over a month with another rabbit.  When she was taken back there was a split in one of her ears.  I had to break up a scuffle more than once between her and the female to whom Leon had become a 'husbun'.  Not jealousy, just territorial.  I had to nurse wounds on more than one occasion when one would get out without my knowledge and go after the other.  I managed to intervene before much fur flew, though it was still unpleasant to watch two female rabbits attempt to take each other out.

Now blood is coming out and I'm not sure it's going to get better.  She's not moving much, and it's going to be a long night.  Vet wants too much, of course.  She seems to be in pain; I'm trying to keep her comfortable.

I know I probably could have done better so this may not be happening.  The bible says our days are numbered.  Nothing can change what was decided when we were born.  I wonder if the same goes for animals.  Their importance is stressed in the book as well.

Love you, Shadow.  If it is your time, we must accept, and be able to move on without too much lost.  It's what you would want; easier said than done. 

I didn't become a vet from the age I had decided at twelve years old until freshman year at vet school.  I couldn't handle death.  Now is no different.  Praying I don't take this as hard as the first pet that saved my son's life.  They don't outlive us usually most of the time, which doesn't make it any easier.  Praying if this is her time she doesn't suffer much at all, and can join her former roommates over the rainbow bridge in peace and with joy.  And that her loss is felt for only as long as she would want, no longer.

Reunion at the Rainbow Bridge

Our family menagerie awaits us just over the Rainbow Bridge.  Smandie and Elvis went to join Charlie last week.  Elvis was unexpected, and Smandie followed just over a day later.  It was almost too much, especially with the original owner out of town.

Our remaining healthy younger flirtatious boy, Jack, went to Elvis' adoptive home, with their consent.  They had fallen in love with Elvis as we had.  He tended to nip occasionally, which kept him at pet status, as opposed to being qualified as an emotional therapy pet.  Jack is, and is already bringing love and smiles to his new family, including their dog.

It's sad suddenly with most of our guinea pigs having gone to play over The Bridge, and the last gone to a new home, since they had lost Elvis after only having had him three weeks.  We knew he was old, though not that he would begin to fade so soon and pass just days later.

The boy a guinea pig saved had wanted to keep our oldest remaining: Smandie.  She had brought many smiles in a hotel room after Hurricane Sandy.  Now we have her in our hearts, memories, and photos.  Same for Elvis; he was so easy to love by all who met him, whether he nipped or not.  All of them went to the other side having been in loving arms; none went alone while anyone was away or not with them.  We are especially blessed for that.  It was as if they held on until we were home for them to say 'goodbye'.

Charlie has her two playmates back, as Peaches and Lucy look down from their heavenly perches, singing new songs that all of their pet family friends now understand.  They're all happy and healthy again and playmates as well with the children who skip blissfully among them.

There was little time to cry, and so much the better.  The sooner we move on as our friends now on the other side look on, the sooner the little boy who now almost looks like a man can be at a place to pick the next furry friend in his own time, giving holding such a creature a new and renewed meaning.

Au Revoir, Chuchi; Bon Voyage, Elvis (until we meet again)

Parting is such sweet sorrow.  You are loved very much.  So much that we want you to be with families that want to make you the center of their love for a long and healthy life, with other playmates just like you, and extra time and attention for play and happiness.

There's much going on now that may not allow for much fun in the present or near future, so we had to decide what was best for you.  We will miss you very much, though by now you may realize there's more fun to be had where you are, and you may be missing us less than we miss you already.

You are close by enough for us to visit, and we look forward to hearing about all of the news of your new friends and families.  We wish you plenty of extra treats, smiles, and snuggles by your new friends and humans.

You are both beautiful and special: the reasons we found you.  Taking care of you until your forever families could welcome you may have been part of the plan, as they could not have found you on their own.  We were brought together for your safety, love, and comfort until a place where you could thrive even more wanted you very much, a place that only we could take you to.

Until later, we will have our memories and visit again in our dreams.  You deserve only the best.

Goodbye, Charlie

When the last post was written, it wasn't really known Charlie wouldn't last the month.  During her last evening I was fortunate to have the privilege to be able to provide water, food, vitamin C, and what love I could.  I didn't know she was trying to say goodbye when she turned her whole body around just to catch my eye.  She could only move with her front paws, so the effort was significant. 

I praised her for turning around on a towel she was resting on in a chair; she couldn't really move much from the size of the tumors that had take over her body.  While administering her vitamins I didn't realize what her clicks as opposed to her unique sounds and the color of her teeth meant: she was in fact dying. 

Upon checking her after dinner I found her limp.  I don't know if her heart was still beating when I picked her up and began to cry; she was still warm, at the center of her body, though 'gone' by all appearances.  I immediately texted her original owner and other family.  The plan was to be together at the summer place and euthanize her there.  Two other pets were buried there on the mountain from an earlier year: a tropical bird who caught a chill and couldn't recover, and another who became too weak after losing a toe to another aggressive bird.

My son didn't want Charlie kept cold until we could make the trip, and asked that she be buried near the home where we were.  The next morning she still wasn't fully cold and remained limp in the exact same position I'd left her in her cage, wrapped in a towel with her face showing.

She was gently placed in the same towel in a box that had held some very expensive shoes.  I took her in a shopping bag to where my son asked she be buried.  It was an effort in the morning hours, though it felt as though we were protected from onlookers wondering what might be in the box.  Once I'd actually succeeded in getting her final resting place covered I remained on my knees, in tears.

She had her own unique sounds and personality.  She was our first, with lots of memories, and pictures.  We know she's crossed 'the rainbow bridge' with two little birds saying hello again where time doesn't exist, waiting for when we can all play together again.

Charlie the Lifesaver

She saved my son's life at a critical time, and taught him another form of love.  For a long time, they were regular friends.  A boy religiously took care of her, changing her bedding, food, and water daily.  She got time out of her cage almost daily, too, and a regular memory is a short video of her jumping what looked like two feet into the opening of her 'home' that had her nameplate on the outside of it.

She continued to jump onto the platform of her cage, without the ramp, most of the time with its door open, to the food dish, and down again for the hay and water.  She would also jump when happy, and take short, happy sprints when let out on the floor to cover more ground.

Time changes things.  She has her own personality, and was always loved.  A boy grew into a young man, and trips to and from became too much.  So Charlie's cage remained at Mom's house, and the sound of a young boy's voice became unrecognizable to her, as it went from that of a child to that of a young man.

Mom and the family continued to give love, and not as much time out of the cage as we would have wished, had things been different.  There were other guinea pigs, one or two, that had their own personalities and ways of wanting to be active, or not.  None of them got whatever overtook Charlie.

The vet said surgery would likely not be successful.  Guinea pigs don't do well with anesthesia.  Her belly is swollen as if there's a large litter of pups in there, though Charlie never mated.  She was acquired from the pet store as a pup herself.  She had fit in a small child's hands: the best friend whose life she made different and even more valuable at a critical time.

Tumors, cancer or not, have inexplicably overtaken Charlie's body.  She can no longer jump onto her platform.  Her food dish must be nearby.  She has difficulty moving across the cage from the size of her body.  The vet said to keep her comfortable, so she gets the softest bedding, changed daily.  It's not really enough; Charlie can't move much, though does the best she can...

The vet said so long as she acts like a guinea pig.  She was sick a time or two before she started to get bigger.  She still has an appetite and sounds like her old self, though she doesn't look happy.  Soon we will likely have to decide when to allow her to cross the rainbow bridge.  She may not lose her appetite again, or become so big her unhappiness makes the decision inevitable.  It's sad to see her every day; her body can't be free from the ground, her back legs struggle to move her lower half.  She must be picked up gently to give her vitamin C, and her underside washed to keep her cleaner. 

When one loves an animal or a person, we don't see what they've become; we see what we loved first.  Holding Charlie as she makes her signature sounds only reminds us of when she was little.  We are saddened that her days appear shorter than others like her, and that we may have to decide what her last day is to be.  Miracles do happen.  I pray that something lets go in her body and that she just starts to get smaller again.  If the loved ones on the other side of the rainbow bridge need her more, she will go there to be happy and jump high again.  Maybe before that she can give comfort to someone else who's sick.  Only time will tell.  We love you, Charlie.

Time

Was in all day.  Noted the date many times as well.  Attempting to capitalize on having time to work uninterrupted.  Hours going by with tasks left unfinished.  Including this one.  Overwhelmed with what seems like a never ending to do animals were tended to.  A long haired Peruvian guinea pig named Elvis needed grooming: hair over his eyes trimmed so he can see better, and mats cut out of his lower half from using less expensive bedding that gets caught and twisted.  Gave him his vitamin C; trimming his nails in addition was too much for one sitting.  He was sensitive about having his coat pulled to cut out the mats and avoid getting close to his skin.  The gentle pulling with no getting near his flesh was still uncomfortable for him.  He enjoyed being petted in between; a manicure will have to wait for another time, which he doesn't particularly enjoy either, until it's done, and that feels better, too.

All the GP's like being petted except for one, who tolerates it if you take her out of her cage; if she's not in your lap to get petted, she won't stay still anywhere else for smoothing her short haired coat. 

Foster cat #1 literally sits on top of a rounded top wire birdcage to get close to one of them, birds that is.   I think they may have given up trying to catch any of them, though it's hard to get them out of the room sometimes.  When things get better there will be more time with them, so they can be on the floor more to explore.  They deserve it; it's been a difficult couple of seasons for us all.

Upside, A Day Late

Again, fatigue and overwhelm, again. Now I know how the survivors of Hurricane Katrina felt, only moreso. One of the ones that Hurricane Sandy continues to impact. There are moments of quiet reflection where it's a fight to stave off intrusive thoughts, as worrying accomplishes nothing. The sun coming in the window, a pet wanting attention, care and feeding.

Moments observed in solitude that actually were meant to be shared, with a child, with an offspring. The pets are mostly theirs. Not one of those instances where the parent takes over care because the child isn't. The child isn't able to from distance; would if he could. So caring for the animals and being present is caring for him. He will take over when he can. Much groundwork has been done for him he's not aware of yet, though he may appreciate the knowledge once he's independent.

There are insufficient outlets for expression with existing demands: storm recovery, not yet settled, work, and not least of all parenthood: the priority. Thus late again, for one. Postcards every day, sometimes four to six at a time, one for every calendar day; poor compensation for the distance, though may be helpful at some point. He knows there are copies, for a time in the future that can't be determined right now.

Only in a winter climate to do what was recommended "by law". Found out too late it was a 'relative term'. It's cold, and not being so vibrantly young as before has its limitations in response to the weather. Will not be spending final years here, and the thought of moving again even once is exhausting, though it's absolutely necessary. The plan has to change to work in the pets, and health maintenance, for all concerned.

The upside is staying in touch, with profound limitations, helping others when possible, and moments of quiet and peace, regardless of how few, for now.

The Adventures of Snapple S. or SnappleS

Red Bellied Parrot, which is really dark orange with all of the colors of the rainbow where it isn't orange below the breastbone, and expressive amber eyes; handsome. He was named Snapple because when one of the pet store employees would go out for their Snapple iced tea while this one was out on the counter, he would go for it quickly and take a drink.

Snapple had been in the store nine months when a manager who had seen my son and me for supplies and talking about our birds said Snapple 'would be good with us'. Little did I know then Snapple didn't take well with most of the other employees apart from two people, including the sales-adept manager. Another employee was happy to see him go when I finally went in to get him for a reduced price, which still wasn't cheap.

He's a medium parrot, though he can draw blood, I later found out after he became territorial in his new space, though he's compliant when he's in unfamiliar surroundings. He's done more major damage to furnishings than me, and fortunately my son has stayed clear.

Over this holiday weekend, as most mornings, Snapple has been repeating words the pet store manager taught him, mostly when I'm not in the room and can't hear all of them. 'Snapple's a good boy' is one, 'Hey, baby' is another, with chuckles and whistles added in. What I say that I've heard him repeat up to now is "No".

Staying in for a long weekend to get needed housework done, I resorted to using instant tea in a wide rimmed plastic cup (Tervis), to avoid going out for more preferable drinks. Snapple was on my head. I'd seen him on the rim of my coffee cup before when walking back into the kitchen, so I offered up the cup at my head, unable to see.

My son had even purchased tea at Dunkin Donuts in a styrofoam cup. We didn't know the rim surface was a factor. Snapple hadn't gone for it. Yesterday, as the cup was at my forehead, I felt the weight shift from my head onto the cup. I was able to bring the cup down to see what was happening.

Snapple was going for the tea, and doing his bobbing dance he had also learned at the pet store, or that's where it started. After taking a couple of sips, he looked straight at me and said "I love you." for the first time, in the same room. It was only the second thing I'd heard him say that was from me after "No". And it was only a few moments later that he bit me again, leaving welts (not blood, this time) that sent him back to 'his room'.

When my son was born, I exercised the option of giving him his father's last name, who was in the room during the birth (regrettably, I would have rather had a mirror at the other side of my crotch to see what was happening myself, without him). It was my choice, the naming thing, too. It was a courtesy of consideration and acknowledgement, after he'd signed the paternity papers, in the event anything happened to me 'in the short term', for the baby (had I only known...).

Snapple's behavior reminds me of just one reason why we're no longer together. One way in your presence, another with others. Nice one moment, cruel or inconsiderate the next. Breaking or carelessly losing things of value, and using sometimes irreplaceable resources. Since being with my child, omitting my last name from the child's name.

So as of this last 'I love you.' moment to moment episode Snapple has become SnappleS, as in 'Snapple's a good boy'. Well, it depends on whom you ask, and when.

A New Year's Eve To Remember

Car out. Son in. Santa was unable to deliver what was ordered, as an elf decided to keep them for himself, or something like that. So the money went back into the account, and I woke up the next morning with phone calls to make before a wonderful child woke up. I had agreed to keep the money until he could locate another of what the elf decided to keep, which he said shortly after awakening would be a week or so.

Had already made most of the necessary business calls, and had also pulled out of the coat pocket the business card of the privately owned pet store where a rather rare pink bird had been admired over time, since one of our other beloveds had suddenly passed and I had been quickly looking for another similar, so the grief would not be so bad for so long. In that earlier search the pink oversized parakeet/undersized parrot had been seen. Had been back since having found another like the one we had lost, to consider the possibility and logistics of transporting another during the holiday season with family visits on the agenda. It was mental gymnastics, for days on end until the day before, when the car seemed to have other plans.

It could have been worse: a total loss for costs equivalent to the value of the car, which turned out to be only a percentage of that, as if the price tag were bearable, which it really wasn't. Won't have recovered from not seeing family on a critical day and time for quite awhile yet. Wonderful Son made it as bearable as possible. Would not have wanted to spend that kind of time with anyone else.

Upon explaining what remained of the day and discussing the days ahead, the bird came into the conversation, and Son's eyes lit up at the same time his body seemed to fill with energy. He was dressed and ready to leave sooner than any other day in recent memory.

The taxi arrived in front of where breakfast had been planned sooner than anticipated, so we got in and picked up breakfast at the destination instead, a few doors from the pet store, which turned out to be better. There was another bird he liked just as much or better; there were three of them, and one of the rare one. We played with all of them, then decided on the latter, for today.

Just like who could not take the place of our first lost beloved, though loved as much than before, being in between the fabric of his clothing layers, this one today was just as friendly and took to him just as much, in her own unique way.

It was hard to leave again out into the cold after holding her and introducing her to her new home, though we managed to get to dinner at one of his favorite restaurants and get back before the festivities of the evening could be felt on the streets, while holiday lights still flickered and moved in front lawns on the way home. He had been so wonderful, and today had been no exception. The joy of the day was fleeting; it has been hard keeping the sadness of tomorrow at bay, until we are together again.