Sad news

Hi Ladies,

Thursday I made a hard decision at the vet by hoping the antibiotics and painkillers would at least stave off infection to a reasonable point. They didn't.

By yesterday afternoon the tumor had turned necrotic to the extent that we could see dead tissue pushing at Clover's skin, and I immediately called the vet. She was in no pain thanks to the numerous painkillers, but once an infection gets that bad there's nothing else to do. Mr. B and I took our happy, high on drugs rat to the vet's office where we had to have her put down. The doctor administered the barbiturate and handed her back to me so I could hold her until she passed (not more than 15 seconds). They let us take her little body with us when we left so she could be buried next to Lexus, which we did this evening.

It was really hard. I haven't really stopped crying for the last 3 days, because it was everything I never wanted to do. The infection was terrible--if we had let it go even another few hours, there's no doubt in my mind it would have actually broken through her skin. Putting her down was the right thing to do, but she was so pain free when we had to do it she was acting like her old self. She wasn't acting sick at all, and it sucked. I mean, I'm happy she wasn't in pain when she died, but it really sucked having to watch her bounce around the exam counter like nothing was wrong, and then I kissed her goodbye and handed over the bouncy rat to the vet. She was so bouncy he had trouble getting a good grip on her to stick the needle in, and then she was subdued when she came back to me, and then she was gone. I sobbed hysterically and Mr. B almost vomited. (I'd like to note her that our vet is a wondeful guy. He answered all my questions, and he totally agrees with me that intracardiac euthanasia is inhumane. He injected the barbiturate into the body cavity, and anathesia wasn't needed because she was already hopped on the rodent version of morphine, but he said he would anathestize her I was more comfortable with it free of charge.)

But it still sucked. I cried all of last night and woke up cryng this morning. I went out shopping with my mom and sister to try and get on with life and my mom bought me some books from the ARC but I made her drive me home when my sister wanted to go to a retail clothing place (somehow these trips always end with me in a tiny room trying on a stack of jeans taller than I am, and I just wasn't in the mood). I walked up to my door and waited until they drove off and then got in my car (actually my dad's car bc mine was still broken) and went looking for something to eat to distract myself. I didn't want to be in the house alone (Mr. B was out with my dad)--like really alone, with no rats to be all happy and greet me when I came in. Just a big, empty cage that I hadn't taken down to the basement yet. So I went around but none of the lunch places were open. So I bought junk food at the grocery store and crashed Q's place. Q, I hope you don't mind. I just couldn't be alone in my house with that empty cage.

Wetpaw came in and found me crying on the couch surrounded by hotwings and energy drinks, watching some television show about people with too many kids and they were running around Disney world with mouse ears on, and asked me why I was there, and then decided to leave me alone I think. Then he left again.

I eventually made it to my parent's house, crashed there with Mr. B for a while. Then we went and buried Clover, and then we ate dinner, and then we came home together. The big, empty cage is still here, just like Clover left it, not knowing it was the last time. I really don't think I've ever been this upset over the loss of a pet before--this is the first one not to die of natural causes. I truly hope none of you ever have to put an animal down, because this one experience has caused more angst in my life than losing relatives or friends. I had to decide this--it wasn't death by health issue or a car accident or something else beyond my control--I decided to end that life. It was the humane thing to do, but this is truly hard to deal with. I handed her over, I watched the lethal injection, and I held her when she died. Right now, it doesn't feel like I will ever really get over it. I'm still bursting into tears at random junctures.

I don't want more rats. I think I love them too much, and they don't live very long, and the treatments for their ailments aren't very advanced or effective. You just fall in love with them and watch them suffer, and they fall in love with you and act like nothing's wrong because they're so happy all the time. What I really want is my old rats back--all of them--and I want them to live forever without disease. It's days like these that make me want to deperately believe in a heaven or any sort of afterlife where I will be able to see them again. I do believe in an afterlife, and reicarnation of a sort.

I'm sorry to punish you all with my lengthy cathartic post about a depressing subject. I'm just having trouble coping with this. I'm hoping tomorrow will be better, and I'll post some happy memories about Clover away from this post that contains all of my emotional garbage.

She had a good life, and a painless passing.

Alula