Jimmothy. (2021, May- 2024, March, 7th)
I don't know if it's hilarious, or morbid that Jimmothy and his brother passed at the exact same time in my life. I don't mean a date, or anything so specific. But they left me during the transitory periods of my life when I had time to dedicate to them without any other worries. When Juice Box passed, it was too soon. I fought the reaper tooth and nail to give him more. He died short of his second birthday.
Jimmothy was made of tougher stuff than that, I suppose, but the march of time will wear us all down. Rats have it rougher than us, as after two years, their nerves began to fray and fail. I knew he was getting old in December when he began to waddle. Hind Leg degeneration had begun. I thought it would be different, this time. A slow decline into a peaceful death. I had time to come to terms with it. I thought it would be easier.
This monday, he seemed slightly off. He was still eating, but very little. All he wanted was apple sauce and attention, and I made an appointment for him to get checked out on Thursday. Not for any notion that I could keep him alive for much longer, but to make him comfortable.
Tuesday, he had stopped eating altogether and took a rapid downturn, only wanting to sleep, and occasionally cuddle. Strange, considering he was as independent as a rat could be. He hated being handled and coddled. And would only allow extended petting when he rode around on my shoulder like a pirate. Boys always tended to be, but that's what I loved about them. They were little teenagers, constantly embarrassed by their "Dad" being around, except when I fed them of course.
Later in the night, I knew that he wasn't long for this world. His hind legs had completely given up the ghost, and I couldn't coax him to even drink water. I thought it would be easier. It was not. I cried my eyes out like it was the first time I held him. I was so convinced that he would be gone in the morning, so I slept, getting mentally ready for burying the last of my first pair.
Yet he was still there in the morning, so my surprise. All that preparation crumbled in a moment, and I spent most of the day crying, petting him, and fretting over making him comfortable. I made a bed for him on my desk. I cried more, and I thought that maybe he would make it to the vet.
I spent an hour petting him as I listened to my records, holding him in my arms like I used to do when he was young as he rested. I made my peace then, I thought he may linger for a few more days and gently put him away to use the restroom.
by the time I got back, he was gone. died in the 3 min it took me to take a piss and wash my hands. His brother, of course, did the exact same thing to me.
In my heart, I feel like he was helping me get over him before I had to put him to rest. That he knew how upset I would be, how much I loved the little bastard and wanted to spend some time with me before his time was up. I like to think that, instead of he just wanted to die alone.
Either way, he was an important part of my life. Bought as a paid with his brother, during some of the worst years in my life. I'm better than I was then, healthier and happier, despite everything. Yet....Yet I feel a little lost, without them. Without my boys.
This doesn't even feel like a eulogy to me, more an explanation of what happened, and how much I miss him already. Yet, it feels like the best way to show what he was. He was a stubborn bastard who always wanted his way, despite whatever it was. But he loved everyone, even still.
Even still. I want him to have a little of the immortality that the internet provides, and thus, I write this. In the end, his stubbornness was a gift to me, giving me the time to spend some last moments with a pet I loved with all my heart.
Goodbye, my little bastard. I'll miss you.
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