Archives
Sep 1999
Oct 1999
Nov 1999
Dec 1999
Jan 2000
Feb 2000
Mar 2000
Apr 2000
May 2000
Jun 2000
Jul 2000
Aug 2000
Sep 2000
Oct 2000
Nov 2000
Dec 2000
Jan 2001
Feb 2001
Mar 2001
Apr 2001
May 2001
Jun 2001
Jul 2001
Aug 2001
Sep 2001
Oct 2001
Nov 2001
Dec 2001
Jan 2002
Feb 2002
Mar 2002
Apr 2002
May 2002
Jun 2002
Jul 2002
Aug 2002
Sep 2002
Oct 2002
Nov 2002
Dec 2002
Jan 2003
Feb 2003
Mar 2003
Apr 2003
May 2003
Jun 2003
Jul 2003
Aug 2003
Sep 2003
Oct 2003
Nov 2003
Dec 2003
Jan 2004
Feb 2004
Mar 2004
Apr 2004
May 2004
Jun 2004
Jul 2004
Aug 2004
Sep 2004
Oct 2004
Nov 2004
Dec 2004
Jan 2005
Feb 2005
Mar 2005
Apr 2005
May 2005
Jun 2005
Jul 2005
Aug 2005
Sep 2005
Oct 2005
Nov 2005
Dec 2005
Jan 2006
Feb 2006
Mar 2006
Apr 2006
May 2006
Jun 2006
Jul 2006
Aug 2006
Sep 2006
Oct 2006
Nov 2006
Dec 2006
Jan 2007
Feb 2007
Mar 2007
Apr 2007
May 2007
Jun 2007
Jul 2007
Aug 2007
Sep 2007
Oct 2007
Nov 2007
Dec 2007
Jan 2008
Feb 2008
Mar 2008
Apr 2008
May 2008
Jun 2008
Jul 2008
Aug 2008
Sep 2008
Oct 2008
Nov 2008
Dec 2008
Jan 2009
Feb 2009
Mar 2009
Apr 2009
May 2009
Jun 2009
Jul 2009
Aug 2009
Sep 2009
Oct 2009
Nov 2009
Dec 2009
Jan 2010
Aug 2010
Sep 2010
Oct 2010
Nov 2010
Dec 2010
Feb 2011
Mar 2011
Apr 2011
May 2011
Sep 2011
Oct 2011
Nov 2011
Feb 2012
Mar 2012
May 2012
Apr 2023
May 2023
Jun 2023
Jul 2023
Sep 2023
Oct 2023

May
21
2004
Sad news today: Gerbil has died.

He passed away yesterday, 5/19/04, sometime after noon. He had been up and around in the morning, but the paper tube I put in his cage at around 6pm was untouched. That's what tipped me off this morning: nothing goes unchewed in his cage overnight.

I found him curled up in his nest, as though he were sleeping. Two years, eight months is still a respectable age for a little fuzzy guy, but I was nearly devastated to hold his soft furry body. I've got a weak spot for pets, and gerbil is a special one: he's Destiny's first pet, the first one she picked out herself, took care of on her own, and could actually play with.

So, D and I were understandably concerned about how Destiny would handle it; we had no frame of reference, and it's hard to tell how a 7-year-old understands.

Her first reaction was very 7-year-old, "Can we guy a new one?" She seemed sad, but I don't think it really registered until it was time to bury him.

We'd long-ago made arrangements to bury him at Grandma Kathy's house (originally due to apartment-living), and Des opted to keep those arrangements. A proper burial plot was chosen beneath a honeysucke bush, and I dug a little hole. Des didn't like the idea of burying him in a box or wrapped in anything, so we planted him as-is. I laid him in the hole, and shoveled a few piled on top while Grandma and Destiny picked out seedlings. We planted two snapdragons and a couple other foliage plants on top of gerbil's resting place, packed the remaining dirt around them, and placed a round rock as a headstone. D and Allie were present, and handling the event in their own ways. Everyone discussed what "Gerbil Heaven" was like: Some suggested that it was full of the tastiest toilet-paper tubes, or full of sunflower seeds, or was perfect for mocking felines from a safe distance. Destiny became choked up as we finished, and I whispered, "it's OK to cry, I did earlier."

Later, as I was helping Des in the bath (she can't wash her long hair on her own), we talked about gerbil again. She wondered what gerbil was doing right now in gerbil-heaven.

I said, "Well, in gerbil-heaven he can do whatever he likes the best."

Without missing a beat, Des said:

"I'll bet he's running around on the kitchen table, playing with me."



That is sad news. My sympathies to the family of Gerbil. He was a good gerbil. A happy girbil.

--David Vaiyne , 5/22/2004 08:46:26


Your Name:
Email:
Webpage:
Your comment:



blog advertising is good for you
Looking For "Wookies"?