I'm a closet cat person. I know, don't tell Gatsby. I love him too--especially his feline tendencies. But, since I already have the dog and the chinchilla, I'm not so much allowed to invite a cat into the mix. So, when my friend goes out of town, I jump at the chance to kitten-sit. That's how I'm spending this week.
Friend lives downtown, so this week is as near to a vacation as I'm going to get this summer. I chill here, get in touch with my inner Carrie Bradshaw, and enjoy life without a television (but non-stop Breaking Bad on my Netflix streaming....let's not get crazy her.) I also give myself full permission to eat nothing but popcorn and drink non-diet soda. So there.
I'm puttering through my self-help library this week as well, and trying to get a plan together for going back to work. I'm committed to trying to live life a little more like the animals in my life...a little more chill, suave, go-with-the-flow, enjoying my people, and not stressing about the future or things I can't do anything about. I'm also hoping that this commitment lasts longer than two weeks. We'll see!
I am who I am, which is too many things to have one specific title. That's why I need a blog.
Showing posts with label pets. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pets. Show all posts
Monday, August 20, 2012
Monday, December 08, 2008
How the time drags on and on...
I went to the vet today to pay for Simon's "arrangements" and pick up a mold of his paws and some of his fur that they collected from me. First of all, I have to say that the vets at South Hyland Pet Hospital in Bloomington are the nicest vets I've ever encountered in my life. The vet (who called me and didn't mind waiting while I cried so hard I couldn't talk and who sat with me while I said my goodbyes to Simon and took our picture) was standing nearby when I came in today. She came over and asked me how I was doing, and gave me some advice on how to help Favre get over the loss of his "cage mate." She was very concerned, and everyone there was so kind both on Friday when I was there and today.
I wanted to put Simon's birth and death dates on his paw mold...and I realized that I really didn't know exactly when he was born. I was figuring around the summer of 2000, since I knew I didn't have him in my first Northfield apartment but I did in my second, which I moved into in the summer of 2000. I don't remember *not* having him in that apartment. Turns out, I didn't get Simon until 2002. This is upsetting...first of all, a six year old chin is not old at all. Chinchillas can live to be 15-20 years old.
I wonder if there were things I did--or didn't do--that shortened his lifespan. I've been struggling a lot with the guilt that I didn't feed him as much as I should have during the three weeks he was recovering from his teeth filing. He needed to be fed by hand, and it was really time consuming, and I was frustrated that he wasn't eating his regular food like he did the last time he had them filed. I was hoping that if I fed him one syringe of food (he was supposed to get two a day) he would begin to eat his regular food too. When I brought him in, they said that even if he could recover with his teeth (which he couldn't, and I need to remember that), he had lost so much weight that his liver was compromised. I feel horrible that during the last weeks of his life he spent most of them hungry and, apparently, in pain. I can't think about that, though, or I'll drive myself crazy. He didn't die because of how I fed him...he died because of his teeth roots, which isn't anything I could control.
It all boils down to the fact that I miss him. And finding out that he was only six, when I really thought he was eight or nine years old, only makes it worse. I'm still crying all the time, but it's weird things that trigger it. Like, this morning when I was walking downstairs I saw Favre in the cage and accidently called him Simon. Tears. Seeing the syringe with little bits of Critical Care left in them from Thursday while doing the dishes. Tears.
I know it'll get better. It always does. And I'm thinking about maybe getting another chinchilla. But I don't know...I shouldn't get one...I'm not going to make any decisions for awhile.
I wanted to put Simon's birth and death dates on his paw mold...and I realized that I really didn't know exactly when he was born. I was figuring around the summer of 2000, since I knew I didn't have him in my first Northfield apartment but I did in my second, which I moved into in the summer of 2000. I don't remember *not* having him in that apartment. Turns out, I didn't get Simon until 2002. This is upsetting...first of all, a six year old chin is not old at all. Chinchillas can live to be 15-20 years old.
I wonder if there were things I did--or didn't do--that shortened his lifespan. I've been struggling a lot with the guilt that I didn't feed him as much as I should have during the three weeks he was recovering from his teeth filing. He needed to be fed by hand, and it was really time consuming, and I was frustrated that he wasn't eating his regular food like he did the last time he had them filed. I was hoping that if I fed him one syringe of food (he was supposed to get two a day) he would begin to eat his regular food too. When I brought him in, they said that even if he could recover with his teeth (which he couldn't, and I need to remember that), he had lost so much weight that his liver was compromised. I feel horrible that during the last weeks of his life he spent most of them hungry and, apparently, in pain. I can't think about that, though, or I'll drive myself crazy. He didn't die because of how I fed him...he died because of his teeth roots, which isn't anything I could control.
It all boils down to the fact that I miss him. And finding out that he was only six, when I really thought he was eight or nine years old, only makes it worse. I'm still crying all the time, but it's weird things that trigger it. Like, this morning when I was walking downstairs I saw Favre in the cage and accidently called him Simon. Tears. Seeing the syringe with little bits of Critical Care left in them from Thursday while doing the dishes. Tears.
I know it'll get better. It always does. And I'm thinking about maybe getting another chinchilla. But I don't know...I shouldn't get one...I'm not going to make any decisions for awhile.
Saturday, December 06, 2008
RIP Simon, my little pet
I bought Simon at a pet store about eight years ago because I didn't have the responsibility for a dog and didn't particularly want a cat. BFF Jessie said "you should get a chinchilla--they're really cool." So I checked them out, fell in love with the little guy and took him home.
He dug his little furry self into my heart, messed around with his cage mate and produced three babies (one of whom occupies the cage with him now) and used to run to the cage door whenever I came into the room.
Simon died today. I brought him to the vet for what I thought was going to be a routine procedure and the vet called and said it was more, that Simon probably wouldn't eat again, and that if he was her chinchilla, she would put him to sleep. So I did.
I cried for hours and will do so for many days. Yeah, he was a rat. But he loved to have the little space between his neck and his ear scratched, and he loved raisins and he loved running on his wheel. So last night I gave him a raisin--I'm really glad I did--and today when he was being anesthetized I scratched his favorite spot while he went to sleep.
I left him there for "mass cremation"...I didn't know what else to do with him. They're going to give me some of his fur and an imprint of his paws. And I have pictures. I pretty much have everything but him.
He dug his little furry self into my heart, messed around with his cage mate and produced three babies (one of whom occupies the cage with him now) and used to run to the cage door whenever I came into the room.
Simon died today. I brought him to the vet for what I thought was going to be a routine procedure and the vet called and said it was more, that Simon probably wouldn't eat again, and that if he was her chinchilla, she would put him to sleep. So I did.
I cried for hours and will do so for many days. Yeah, he was a rat. But he loved to have the little space between his neck and his ear scratched, and he loved raisins and he loved running on his wheel. So last night I gave him a raisin--I'm really glad I did--and today when he was being anesthetized I scratched his favorite spot while he went to sleep.
I left him there for "mass cremation"...I didn't know what else to do with him. They're going to give me some of his fur and an imprint of his paws. And I have pictures. I pretty much have everything but him.
Friday, December 05, 2008
"You have the most beautiful eyes!"
A few days ago I alluded to the fact that life has had its decidedly icky moments lately. But, I also allowed as how there were some pretty nifty things going on too. So, yesterday I spent a rather unpleasant few minutes with a camera shoved up my nose and down my throat. Today I forked out another chunk of cash for Simon the Wonder Chinchilla to get his teeth filed down (and he's under the knife now and I really hope he doesn't die). This is a sample of the general ick.
But, while I was signing the form at the vet, the vet tech told me the time to pick him up and then said "You have the most beautiful eyes!" And I, who has never heard this before *ever*, said "wow, thanks!" And do you know that girl put the first smile on my face this week? She said "I'm sure you hear that all the time but I just had to tell you." And I, of course, said that no one ever says it, and I thanked her again.
So, though there's a list of crap going on that isn't a lot of fun, at least I'm doing it with fabulous peepers. And that's cool.
But, while I was signing the form at the vet, the vet tech told me the time to pick him up and then said "You have the most beautiful eyes!" And I, who has never heard this before *ever*, said "wow, thanks!" And do you know that girl put the first smile on my face this week? She said "I'm sure you hear that all the time but I just had to tell you." And I, of course, said that no one ever says it, and I thanked her again.
So, though there's a list of crap going on that isn't a lot of fun, at least I'm doing it with fabulous peepers. And that's cool.
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