Almost 3 years ago, my youngest daughter and I went off the the pet store to buy an aquarium and some fish and came back with a baby ferret and a ferret condo for it to live in. Don't ask, it just happened that way. My spouse was both aghast and unhappy with my judgment -- as in, "what in your 17 years of marriage to me would allow you to think that I might want a ferret in my house?" My daughter, always on the lookout for a potential furry, cuddly pet was delighted as my allergies (both to animal fur and pet maintenance activities) had so far prevented any in-house pets other than the random turtle.
Funny thing happened, though -- over time, my wife and I fell in love with this 2 pound pea-brained animal who was always happy and glad to see us (read: be let out of its cage) and was so dumb that everything was new each time she was let out -- explored the same places, took and ferreted away the same stuff my wife and I had retrieved and put back last time she was out. Not really dumb, though..just amazingly persistent. My daughter named her Julie because we bought her in July. We let her play in our TV room when we were watching TV or took her into a bedroom and let her run around. She was expert in getting into drawers (from the back), stealing anything small off the bedside table and exploring anything that she could climb up on or in to. Behind the love seat in our bedroom corner was her treasure trove -- consisting of a half dozen knotted up plastic shirt-bags, all of my wife's hand creams, pens, pencils, paper trash from the trash basket, anything in a plastic bag, and my loafers. Take the stuff away and put it back where it belonged -- it was back in the corner the next time Julie got to play.
In January Julie was diagnosed with cancer -- we brought her in after she had lost 40% of her already meager body weight. We actually paid for intestinal surgery to remove a tumor, but later found out that it was in her lymph nodes. We brought her home and she gained some weight back and continued to be her normal life playful, curious, and cute. She then started to lose weight again, and a week or so ago began to get the shakes and fall asleep on the floor when we let her out. Last night we took her to the vet who told us the shivering was a signal of inexorable decline and perhaps pain. We decided to spare this little creature any more pain and had her gently and quietly euthanized. The whole family was there -- holding her, saying goodbye. The family left after she was sedated and I stayed behind with the vet for the euthanizing shot.
It is my reaction that has me baffled. I know that admitting this will put my He-Man club membership in jeopardy, but I left the vet's office and walked home in tears -- all this little dumb animal ever did was give us joy and laughter and now she was gone. I cried again before going to sleep...I am going to miss Julie.
I know that the loss of a pet is a momentary sadness -- particularly compared with the loss of a friend (which also happened to me earlier this week -- see my other posting on this date). However, I don't remember losing a pet and feeling this way. I never felt close to the dogs we had growing up, and our cats lived so long that I was away from home when they died. The corny old adage of "walk a mile in someone's moccasins" comes to mind -- I can assure you that I will have a lot more empathy for my friends' stories about losing a pet from this point forward.
On May 8, we had to put down, Joplin due to cancer. This was a devastating loss, one that physically affected me unlike anything before. As, I am one of those weird people who would pay anything & have (he just got a new knee last year!) Anyway, a friend of mine shared the following sentiment that summed it all up for me:
Joplin loved you more than his own life and only would let you go on to your next chapter of life when he was certain you were ready.
Posted by: Niki Meade | May 21, 2009 at 02:32 PM