So in the very beginning, I had my rat babies, Squirrel and Shadow! (Squirrely and Shad, as I often refer to them...) What cute, itty-bitty rats with ADORABLE, long tails! I was in love, and I hadn't even figured out how to hold them right! They were each such a beaming ray of sunshine in my life. Just like all fur balls, they know when you're sad, happy, ecstatic, worn out, or just emotionally drained, and they make every effort to lighten your mood! Shadow ran up to me one day after I had been crying all afternoon, and shamefully, I wiped my tears away. (Yeah, I didn't want my rats to know that I was upset!) But he knew. He crawled up into my lap, clutched my arm as he made his way up to my shoulder, and he sat there, kissing the tears off of my face! What a loving, sweet boy! And because of his undying affection, I thought that he was more emotionally attached than Squirrely was, so I oftentimes paid him more mind. As unconscious as this action was, I soon regretted it. Don't get me wrong--I absolutely adored both of my rats! I just thought that Shadow was more attached than Squirrel. But boy, was I wrong.
As they got to be energetic middle-aged rats, they were always putting on small, funny shows for us. They would leap and bound, tackle and hide, and they would twitch their whiskers and wrinkle their furry noses as they investigated a new corner of the house that they had yet to see! It wasn't until a year and a half after I adopted S&S that Squirrel planted one single kiss on my cheek after I had been upset. I was taken aback, initially thinking it was Shadow! But no, it was Squirrel. It was then that I realized that Squirrel and I were a lot alike: we both were energetic and playful, but we were also very reserved. Although we each had a great love that was swarming around in our hearts, we waited until that one moment when we could release the affection that was waiting to burst forth. From that moment on, I never once doubted Squirrel's love for me.
Sweet Shad
Silly Squirrely
But even times wears on an old heart. As Shadow became sick, my heart broke and died a tiny death, but one that felt like a thousand daggers in my chest. He waited two weeks as I came back from school. He waited two weeks until I was able to hold him one last time, kiss him goodbye, and tell him that it was okay to let go. He held on that long, and I didn't want to see him suffer anymore. He kissed my arms as I cradled him, tears falling from my face and splashing into his matted black and white fur. Never had I been kissed so much by Shad, and never had I envisioned a life without him! So as I held him, as he kissed me, he slowly slipped away until his small, frail body rested peacefully in my arms.
Squirrel laying with Shadow the night that he passed away.
His death took such a toll in my life because I allowed it to. What I didn't do was take into account all of the times that he blessed my life, which was each waking minute that I took a breath. And although I still miss him, there is only a warm sense of peace when I think about the life he had.
A few months later, Squirrel began to lose weight, although he was eating like a pig! His fur became thin and brittle, his eyes less glossy, and his back legs, impaired. He held on for one last Christmas with us as he perched on my shoulder while I opened the wrapped ukulele that was under the tree.
I thought he would last one or two more weeks, but I couldn't have been more wrong. Just like Shadow, he was a fighter. In January, he was looking rough, but that rat continued to fool us all as he attempted to run around the house and eat every crumb that laid in his wake. And yes, I treasured every precious moment with him. I took him with me when I drove in the car to pick one of my brothers up, I held him in a blanket when I sat on the front porch, I shared my meals with him, and we had frequent movie nights together. Basically, he came with me everywhere. We were joined at the hip.
I went back to school, knowing that I would be home the next weekend, but not knowing if he would survive even that long. But just like Shadow, he did. Straight from church I came, and I flew into the backdoor after giving Emmett a massive hug and kiss. I ran to my room, found Squirrel--EATING LIKE A PIG--, and picked him up as I spent the next hour with him. Soon after, though, we took my Granddaddy out to eat for his 75th birthday, and were gone for a couple of hours.
After his party, we came back home, and I had a brilliant plan for how the night was going to unfold! First, I was going to bring a plate of crackers into my room, courtesy of Squirrely, I was going to grab a drink and a snack for myself, we were going to curl up together in my bean bag, blankets wrapped around us, and we were going to finish Princess Diaries 2, a movie that I had not seen in a long time. Blankets and bean bag? Check. Movie in? Check. Food ready? Almost. Squirrely ready? Not quite.
I walked back over to where he was hiding under the dresser and got him out, being careful with his frail body. I took one last look at him, and the dreaded thought that had been weighing in my heart all day finally connected in my brain. I couldn't let him suffer any longer. With his back legs no longer working, mites covering his body, his eyes being blinded with age, and his frail frame no longer supporting him, I made a decision to take his suffering away. So this glorious, dream-like night that I had envisioned was about to be over...and it was all my fault. I went and found my dad, who was in the kitchen, and I asked him if I could borrow some money to pull me through with the cost of taking Squirrel to the vet. He agreed, and as I was walking out the front door, Squirrel bundled in a towel, shivering from the cold night air, mom asked me if I wanted anybody to go with me. I thought about it, and through my tears, I replied that I wanted to be alone with him one last time. So my brothers and parents said their goodbyes, and I made a 10 minute trip to the vet a 35 minute drive as I convinced myself to finally take Squirrel inside. Clutched against my chest in the car, that rat had never sat still for me--not until this night. For those last 40 minutes, he calmly looked up at me as I drove, and I was constantly planting kisses on his head. (Which probably annoyed him, if we're being honest here!) Just like with Shadow, I let the tears stream down my face, clouding my vision as I drove right past the Emergency Vet Clinic and into neighboring residential areas, hoping to extend my time with Squirrel. So down Evans St., through some lights, crossing over into West Haven to buy time, and finally coming back up Evans. In that time, I just remember holding him in silence, praying for peace, singing to ease my heart, and telling him, just like I had with Shadow, that it was okay to let go.
I finally pulled into the parking lot, wiping the tears away as we got out of the car, the cool air ripping through my clothes. Inside we went, and as I held him close to me, I filled out the forms that would document my consent for him to be euthanized. She took him away, and the vet came over and told me what they would do..."We'll put a little cotton ball with gas over his nose so that he falls asleep peacefully, and then we'll inject an overdose of some drug into his heart. He won't feel a thing." At the use of "peacefully fall asleep", "gas", and "injection into the heart" used in the same sentence, I felt my heart stop working, my feet stop supporting my weight, and my entire body just shut down. IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT?! I inwardly shouted at myself. I was killing my rat, my friend, my little love! So less than five minutes later, here came the nurse bearing a wrapped up pee pad, a heart placed on the end where Squirrel's head was. I silently took the still bundle, thanked them, and walked out to the car. It unlocked, I got in, I turned the lights off, and I let it go. So there were the tears falling, the sobs racking my body, and the lifeless, warm bundle that was resting peacefully in my arms. The only comfort was knowing that I was with him in the end. Although I wanted to be holding him when he passed, he was so stubborn that he wouldn't have allowed himself to go anytime soon. So here was the new Squirrel--a Squirrel that was only still two times in my existence: One, when he knew that it was his last time, and two, after he had passed. After I had killed him. Again, I took a long drive home, getting back in another 40 minutes. So that night, I stood out in the 40 degree weather as I dug his little grave next to his brother's. The tears were gone, and I was angry with myself, but again, I felt God comforting my heart as he led me through another tiny storm.
Once he was buried and I had said goodbye to both rats, I went inside and into my room, where everything was just the way it was when I left: the open door on the cage, the nibbled bits of luxurious food that I had sneaked to Squirrel earlier that night, and the pile of blankets that were bundled together in the bean bag chair. That night, with such a heavy heart, I decided to sleep in the bean bag chair. I don't know what came over me, but I felt like I needed to fulfill my wishful promise to Squirrel before the night was over. So at 10:00, I settled in with my cup of tea, and I wrapped the blankets around me as I turned on Princess Diaries 2 on my computer, unable to rid my head of thoughts of Squirrel and the way that he looked at me when I saw him. I fell asleep that night, wrapped in the blankets, exhausted from such a strenuous night of grief and chaos.
The next morning, I was as dry as sun-bleached dirt after a drought. There were no tears left, just a bitter, nagging feeling in my heart. I had to go to church to help prepare for the fundraiser that we were having that night, so before anybody was up, I left the house and drove over. Once I was there, the realization that Squirrel was gone struck me again, and I broke down in the parking lot. Of all places! God's comfort was the only thing holding me together, and as one who despises crying in front of others, there was another person who who has the gift of understanding how others are feeling, and she doesn't ever discourage crying--she embraces it as a form of healing. So when I saw her, I put on my BEST smile, cup of tea in my hand, and an enthusiastic worker's posture! But no. Uh-uh. She saw right through that thin disguise. After everybody had left that room, she asked me if I was okay, and I said "Definitely!" as optimistically as possible! (If you've ever seen me try to fake optimism, then you know that it just doesn't work for me!) Oh, my frail heart! My weak eyes! How they need some major muscles to hold in those baseball-sized tears! So the story unfolded, she embraced me, and I realized again how sweet and good our God is! This beautiful lady who means so much to me! Oh, how I am blessed to have her in my life, and how God has blessed us all with such a shining star! The pain lasted, but with God's unending love and grace, He allowed me to continue to shine His light while I was being comforted by Him! How magnificent is our God! And that anger that I had brought Squirrel's death upon him left me, as well. Forever I will miss him, but knowing that he is at peace now comforts me.
February 7, 2014
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