It is always hard when an animal passes.
I once told my God daughter that animals lived shorter lives than us so that we could make more of them happy.
I am 28 and have cared for directly many animals. And they have all touched my life in different ways.
Scruffer (dog)
Daisy (dog)
Countless tropical fish, Slimy standing out among them all.
Two suicidal goldfish that I had for such a short time I admittedly don't remember their names.
Speedy (gerbil)
Misty (gerbil)
Joe (ferret)
Spunky (miniature hamster)
Grover (parakeet)
Carma (parakeet)
Linus (parakeet)
Abe (parakeet)
Winry (parakeet)
Josephine (rabbit)
Xander (rabbit)
Andy (cat)
All the above animals have passed, usually by natural causes, occasionally from illness, one horrible accident, and then of course Daisy just went missing, but since she would be about 24 years old today, I doubt she's still running about.
Then there have been the animals I have helped raised or visited regularly. There were my aunt's birds, Spike and Peppy. Spike, a cockatoo is still alive and well (I think) and being taken care of by my great aunt with his new friend Poopoo. There were my aunt's cats Misty and Max and of course their brother Miracle who we gave to the next-door neighbor. I bottle fed them. There was a brief moment where I remember my aunt having a guinea pig too. Then my grandma's cat Gypsy, who might still be around somewhere for all I know. There were my brother's gerbils, Thunder and Lightening. Being kanagroo gerbils they made for quite some fun. There were all of Grover's many babies, so many I forget the exact number, though I gave the first clutch away to the bird sanctuary to make room for the second whom stuck around long enough to name: Pistol, Heartly, Daisy, Gilgamesh, and :/ I forget what Mickey named the second birdie she took. hm. Before moving out, my mom and I adopted Suzie who became for all intensive purposes, my brother's dog. He eventually went on to adopt Toby from an ex-girlfriend and his new girlfriend came with two dogs, Max and Bella.
I haven't even counted the pets of my childhood friends that mattered to me, though there were a few.
I have lost so many animals, and the only thing that has changed after all this time is my acceptance that it will one day happen. The pain, the tears, the missing of them. It never changes.
It has been 6 years since my first dog Scruffy passed away, and I still think about him from time to time. Daisy too. I think about Josephine probably more than I should.
Today Grover passed away. It is the first time I was really expecting an animal to go. She had lived twice as long as all my other parakeets, but since she was so strong and so resistance to everything that tried to take her in the past (including a cat scratch) there was still a part of me that suspected she would pull through like always. But I knew it was coming. She had started to get thin, get a little cranky in her old age, and became a little less active. Then last night she got sick and I held her for nearly an hour until she woke up and got concerned. She kept trying to get up on my shoulder or fly, and she couldn't, so I put her back in her cage with a blanket. This morning she looked better, even sat up on the perches.
Then it happened. She started "flying" kind of upside down at the bottom of the cage, clearly disoriented. I went to shut the door (to keep the cats out) so I could check on her and when I came back she was already gone.
Even still I waited until she stiffened to box her up and bury her. Part of me still doesn't accept it. And all of me is sad.
There are animal people and there are non-animal people, but once you are an animal person, there simply is no turning back. You know full and well that one day they're not going to be there anymore. You know that unless you buy a baby parrot, the animal is not going to out live you. And yet, you adopt them anyway. Because what is a few days of sadness for all the memories and all the years, brief as they may be, of joy?
Today, still with me, I have Astrid and Zelda (cats) and Sasha (parakeet). And if not for them, I would be even sadder. I doubt the cats miss the bird or have even noticed yet that she is gone, but they know I am sad and follow me around. Sasha was a bit distressed earlier, but she has been singing pleasantly for the past hour, filling my office with a little birdie song, so uncharacteristic of any of the kisses or screeches Grover would have left me.
There was a time where I didn't rush to buy a new pet because I feared "replacing" the old, but the truth is that each one of them is irreplaceable and special. Though, I think this will be the end of my bird reign. At least for quite some time. It's going to be hard to find another bird that lives up to Grover, even if I know I'm not replacing her, and for Sasha's sake, I'll probably be sending her to live with my grandma, who already has other birds and where Sasha won't feel quite so alone (she's never been by herself before and it isn't good for her to stay as such because of that) and where I can receive updates and even visit.
And once she is settled, and my office feels alone and quiet, and my nighttime chores of caring for animals has dwindled, I'll realize that we have an opening in our family. And I won't be surprised if I end up with a dog by the end of the year.
And so the cycle will continue. My heart opening up to, knowing full well that one day I'll almost regret it. Almost but never enough.
I am comforted by the fact that my children will know animals from the moment they arrive home and will build relationships with them and one day go out and pick their very own furry family members.
I'm not usually one for taking the Bible literally, and I am open to the concept of many religions, but a common theme I do notice, at least in the popular ones, is that historically speaking there is always mention of a connection to animals and our need for each other. If you're more the scientific type, it should come as no surprise that countless studies show that relationships with animals improve our lives, and that one woman has even found a link in the rise of depression and our more urban, animal free lives.
So really, it's only natural. Perfectly normal and expected that there should be an animal in my home until the day I too pass on.
And in heaven, I will be able to look forward to my very own zoo of lost friends.
I once told my God daughter that animals lived shorter lives than us so that we could make more of them happy.
I am 28 and have cared for directly many animals. And they have all touched my life in different ways.
Scruffer (dog)
Daisy (dog)
Countless tropical fish, Slimy standing out among them all.
Two suicidal goldfish that I had for such a short time I admittedly don't remember their names.
Speedy (gerbil)
Misty (gerbil)
Joe (ferret)
Spunky (miniature hamster)
Grover (parakeet)
Carma (parakeet)
Linus (parakeet)
Abe (parakeet)
Winry (parakeet)
Josephine (rabbit)
Xander (rabbit)
Andy (cat)
All the above animals have passed, usually by natural causes, occasionally from illness, one horrible accident, and then of course Daisy just went missing, but since she would be about 24 years old today, I doubt she's still running about.
Then there have been the animals I have helped raised or visited regularly. There were my aunt's birds, Spike and Peppy. Spike, a cockatoo is still alive and well (I think) and being taken care of by my great aunt with his new friend Poopoo. There were my aunt's cats Misty and Max and of course their brother Miracle who we gave to the next-door neighbor. I bottle fed them. There was a brief moment where I remember my aunt having a guinea pig too. Then my grandma's cat Gypsy, who might still be around somewhere for all I know. There were my brother's gerbils, Thunder and Lightening. Being kanagroo gerbils they made for quite some fun. There were all of Grover's many babies, so many I forget the exact number, though I gave the first clutch away to the bird sanctuary to make room for the second whom stuck around long enough to name: Pistol, Heartly, Daisy, Gilgamesh, and :/ I forget what Mickey named the second birdie she took. hm. Before moving out, my mom and I adopted Suzie who became for all intensive purposes, my brother's dog. He eventually went on to adopt Toby from an ex-girlfriend and his new girlfriend came with two dogs, Max and Bella.
I haven't even counted the pets of my childhood friends that mattered to me, though there were a few.
I have lost so many animals, and the only thing that has changed after all this time is my acceptance that it will one day happen. The pain, the tears, the missing of them. It never changes.
It has been 6 years since my first dog Scruffy passed away, and I still think about him from time to time. Daisy too. I think about Josephine probably more than I should.
Today Grover passed away. It is the first time I was really expecting an animal to go. She had lived twice as long as all my other parakeets, but since she was so strong and so resistance to everything that tried to take her in the past (including a cat scratch) there was still a part of me that suspected she would pull through like always. But I knew it was coming. She had started to get thin, get a little cranky in her old age, and became a little less active. Then last night she got sick and I held her for nearly an hour until she woke up and got concerned. She kept trying to get up on my shoulder or fly, and she couldn't, so I put her back in her cage with a blanket. This morning she looked better, even sat up on the perches.
Then it happened. She started "flying" kind of upside down at the bottom of the cage, clearly disoriented. I went to shut the door (to keep the cats out) so I could check on her and when I came back she was already gone.
Even still I waited until she stiffened to box her up and bury her. Part of me still doesn't accept it. And all of me is sad.
There are animal people and there are non-animal people, but once you are an animal person, there simply is no turning back. You know full and well that one day they're not going to be there anymore. You know that unless you buy a baby parrot, the animal is not going to out live you. And yet, you adopt them anyway. Because what is a few days of sadness for all the memories and all the years, brief as they may be, of joy?
Today, still with me, I have Astrid and Zelda (cats) and Sasha (parakeet). And if not for them, I would be even sadder. I doubt the cats miss the bird or have even noticed yet that she is gone, but they know I am sad and follow me around. Sasha was a bit distressed earlier, but she has been singing pleasantly for the past hour, filling my office with a little birdie song, so uncharacteristic of any of the kisses or screeches Grover would have left me.
There was a time where I didn't rush to buy a new pet because I feared "replacing" the old, but the truth is that each one of them is irreplaceable and special. Though, I think this will be the end of my bird reign. At least for quite some time. It's going to be hard to find another bird that lives up to Grover, even if I know I'm not replacing her, and for Sasha's sake, I'll probably be sending her to live with my grandma, who already has other birds and where Sasha won't feel quite so alone (she's never been by herself before and it isn't good for her to stay as such because of that) and where I can receive updates and even visit.
And once she is settled, and my office feels alone and quiet, and my nighttime chores of caring for animals has dwindled, I'll realize that we have an opening in our family. And I won't be surprised if I end up with a dog by the end of the year.
And so the cycle will continue. My heart opening up to, knowing full well that one day I'll almost regret it. Almost but never enough.
I am comforted by the fact that my children will know animals from the moment they arrive home and will build relationships with them and one day go out and pick their very own furry family members.
I'm not usually one for taking the Bible literally, and I am open to the concept of many religions, but a common theme I do notice, at least in the popular ones, is that historically speaking there is always mention of a connection to animals and our need for each other. If you're more the scientific type, it should come as no surprise that countless studies show that relationships with animals improve our lives, and that one woman has even found a link in the rise of depression and our more urban, animal free lives.
So really, it's only natural. Perfectly normal and expected that there should be an animal in my home until the day I too pass on.
And in heaven, I will be able to look forward to my very own zoo of lost friends.
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