A lil' love lost

Late last evening, after a very enjoyable night out, I came home to find my little buddy Winston in an awkward spot and position in his cage.  He looked the same happy, inquisitive and loving creature he has been since the day he came home with me. Just, not quite right.

He and his brother (not really, just call them that) had developed an interesting relationship, with Winston the more docile of the two. Falstaff, assuming the role of the dominant one, was big on ‘barbering’ Winston to the point that he was mostly bald on his head and neck. Not unusual according to my reading.

However, in the past two weeks, there seemed to be a different kind of activity, the relationship between the two. More one-sided and aggressive.  I noticed but did not pay attention.  I let it go while thinking about what was going on with me, my life, my body, my health, my spirit.  I ignored that Winston, my pet, my friend, and my responsibility was in need of my attention.

This morning at 11:40 am PST, Winston was euthanized, at my request. He was two + years old. About the average lifespan. He was terribly overweight. Again, my failing him by not making his life more active and also by loving to feed him whatever he liked! If had raised my child, he would be enormous too I think.

He was as curious as ever on the way to the vet. He was more active than he had been in a while. The adrenaline from the box and the drive I hope, not an awareness of what was happening.

The wait was awful. I wanted to bring him home and make a place for him to be all on his own. His cage required he climb up to where the food and water are. Something he was not able to do any more. His chubby little back legs could just not muster up the strength any more. I could change it all around for him – so that he could live a little longer on just the bottom of the cage!  A limited life for how much longer?

I am so thankful I could not see any pain in him. Or is it really that I didn’t take the time to see it? Either way, I still feel like I failed my companion when he needed me the most. I took on the role of caretaker – the least I could have done is to have taken care of him.

I am sad and I am angry. It made me cry. Is making me cry. A rodent. I let people go so easily, yet this is breaking my heart. Perhaps it is that I feel (I AM) responsible for him. That maybe had I done X, Y or Z he would have lived a few more carefree and happy months!  Eaten more banana slices, apple chunks, pizza bones and his all-time favourite – frozen peas! He would pull them from out of the water bowl and eat the insides and toss the skins aside. I loved to watch him – it cracked me up.

The last look he gave me was one of expectancy. “When are we going back? What are you gonna feed me now?” The same excited, happy look he always gave me. He was bald and could not walk right. He looked old and unhealthy. Somehow, he still looked at me like he was happy I was there.  I hope he can forgive me.

A V