"It's November, 1999. Any questions?"
I knitted very little last night. It seemed I was doing everything wrong. I couldn't tell when I was messing up or not. I was afraid that it was just a freak accident that I managed to knit as much as I had and that my luck had just run out. But then I realized everything was fine and it was more than likely the Benedryl getting to me.
Either Bee or Grandma woke me up at 7:30 AM. I got up without much trouble. Blondie was in bad shape. I picked her up and she felt pretty cold. She was breathing pretty heavily. I put her back down. Bee and I both kept looking at her cage.
When Bee left, I took a shower. As I was loading up my car, I kept thinking about how I didn't want to leave. After all, I was going home so that I could take Blondie to the same vet she's always seen. Blondie looked so bad that I called vets that were on the way home to see if that had any liquid baytril to give her. I didn't think she'd last till her 3:15 appointment. One vet in Sikeston had the medicine. I asked if they could take a look at her, too. The secretary said they were 'booked solid,' but they could probably see her at noon. That was no good. I'd be coming through around 11 and would barely make it to her appointment in time as it was. I was going to settle for just getting the medicine.
I loaded up my car in a hurry. I really didn't want to leave, but I knew I had to go as soon as I could to get to vet in time. I loaded up my car with everything but the gerbils. My cats ran inside and were staring at them. Grandma wanted me to take a picture of the cats looking at my gerbils, so I did. Blondie was not moving much. I knew this might be the last picture of her that I took. I didn't want it to be for several reasons, but the most immediate being that I knew I'd be thinking that looking back on it. I would rather have had the ones of her eating pumpkin seeds be the one I'd remember as the last.
I warmed up a wash cloth with a hair dryer to give to Blondie. Angelina liked it more, I think. Blondie stayed mostly in her box.
I said bye to Grandma and Dad and was on my way. Having a sick gerbil in the car makes every bump bigger, every turn sharper, and every slow car slower. We were listening to Ophelia by Natalie Merchant. I cried for my baby, but I still had hope that once she had some medicine, she would start to get better and maybe back to her old self again soon.
When I got to Sikeston, I found the vet's office without much trouble. The office looked pretty clean. There was a woman with a small puppy in the room where they see the pets. The vet was looking through a microscope behind the counter. The secretary was on the phone.
The vet came to talk to me about the baytril. I asked if she could see Blondie. She said that would be another $18. I said that I probably wouldn't want her to see Blondie because she already had an appointment in Columbia. The vet went back to make the medicine. She was a small woman, maybe in her early fifties. I would describer her as being Western, I don't know why, maybe even a cowboy. She wasn't in a hurry.
I sat and read the scrolling LED sign in the waiting area while waiting. It had a lot of cute pictures and gave a lot of info about medicines and having pets fixed and all that. Then suddenly, "It's November, 1999." it said on one screen. Excuse me? "Any questions?" was the next sign. I thought about it. If it really was November 1999, that means I'm still a senior in high school. I've been dating Eric for a couple of months now. We're very happy. I don't have gerbils, yet. None of my gerbils, even the originals, are born yet. I live at home still. What would I do differently? Oh, wow... So, why November, 1999? Would I go back if I could? Yes.
"I'll see if we can get you in, you know, we're booked solid. No, we're booked solid." the secretary said to someone on the phone. I don't understand what she meant by booked solid. There seemed to be no one there!
The vet came back out after a while, maybe eight minutes. She had only a syringe in her hand. I was dumbstruck. I knew it was what Blondie needed, but I expected the little bottle with medicine. "It's all you needed for her, wasn't it?" Well, yes. I asked if the woman could see her and if that would take long. "Let me check my schedule."
The vet went behind the counter and looked at her appointment book. "We have some time now."
I brought the huge cage in. The vet looked at my Blondie and asked vet-type questions about her. She listened to her heart. "How old is she?" I hate that question. People always tell me, "Oh, that's pretty old for a gerbil." Yes, she is three years in four months old. Yes, she is old for a gerbil. I know that. The vet went to make some kind of solution. She was gone another five minutes or so, just long enough, again, for me to wonder what she was doing.
She came back with the original syringe of baytril. She said we'd give her that, then she was going to inject her with fluids and electrolytes to help her out some until she could be seen later. We gave her the baytril. As I put her back in the cage, I knew it was all wrong. Blondie was reacting the same way LBO did when she had the fatal last dosage of medicine. I called to the vet to come because I thought Blondie was having a heart attack. I saw more than I wanted to before I could turn my back. I understood what was going on. The vet said, "Yeah, just a little bit of excitement when they're not doing well will do that." This is what I had feared would happen and it did.
She took Blondie away and said she was going to do something. I knew there was nothing that could be done at that point. I started to cry a little, but I knew that the vet or the secretary or the other mysterious helper who came out but once would be of no comfort to me. I held back my tears. The vet came back out empty-handed and said that she was gone. I knew it.
I asked if she could put Blondie in a small box for me.
It was strange leaving that place. We talked about my gerbil history briefly as I paid for the services. But when I left, looking at the vet and the secretary, it seemed as if I had never even been there.
I got in my car and was now confused and shaken. Should I go back home or on to Columbia? All my stuff is packed, I've already come one of the five hours, it's early. I really couldn't make up my mind. I called my mom and decided that I would come back home for a few more days.
Eric called me back a little before noon. I told him that when he comes, we'll be burying two gerbils. I cried so hard while talking to him that I was afraid I'd have a wreck. I talked about our baby.
I made it back home around 1 PM. I unloaded my car. I was thinking that I did all of that just for Blondie. I wasn't ready to go home yet, but I loaded up my car completely, woke up early, and was willing to drive five hours just to get her to a vet that knows her. I did all that and still, unloading my car, I was doing it for her. My Blondie baby is worth every bit of it.
Blondie was one of my seven little surprises I woke up to on August 3, 2001. She was spoiled even before she had fur. Once her fur came in, it was clear she was special, being the only 'blonde' one and the others brown like Shirley. I tried to give them all enough attention, but Blondie was the only one I could tell apart and be certain of that I was playing with everyday. I knew I would keep her the minute she showed a blonde fur. Like all my babies, she never had to drink water directly from the tap, only filtered or bottled water. She always had cardboard tubes, boxes, and paper to keep her occupied. Blondie was a sniffer. She sniffed probably more than any other gerbil. When she was still a little gerb, she fell off my shoulder and broke her front leg. It healed soon, as goes with most small creatures. Blondie was trained to climb up my arm anytime I stuck my hand in the cage. She knew she was special. Blondie was a very calm and relaxed gerbil. She had the disposition of her mother, who was also a calm baby. Blondie knew when I was going to play with her. She would stand on the highest object in her box and look up at me. Blondie, like her sister, LBO, lived with me in three different apartments: Holiday House (where she was born), Forrest Village, and Woodlake. Blondie and LBO were the 'supermodel gerbs' of all the babies I had, so Eric called them because of their perfect gerbil figures. Blondie got plumper in her old age and was very cute and soft. I will miss my baby. She's probably grooming LBO somewhere right now.
I'm looking forward to spending some more time at home.
I'm grateful for:
1. All the good times I've had with Blondie and what a good gerbil she's been through the years.
2. Angelina being healthy still.
3. The chance to stay home a while longer.
Either Bee or Grandma woke me up at 7:30 AM. I got up without much trouble. Blondie was in bad shape. I picked her up and she felt pretty cold. She was breathing pretty heavily. I put her back down. Bee and I both kept looking at her cage.
When Bee left, I took a shower. As I was loading up my car, I kept thinking about how I didn't want to leave. After all, I was going home so that I could take Blondie to the same vet she's always seen. Blondie looked so bad that I called vets that were on the way home to see if that had any liquid baytril to give her. I didn't think she'd last till her 3:15 appointment. One vet in Sikeston had the medicine. I asked if they could take a look at her, too. The secretary said they were 'booked solid,' but they could probably see her at noon. That was no good. I'd be coming through around 11 and would barely make it to her appointment in time as it was. I was going to settle for just getting the medicine.
I loaded up my car in a hurry. I really didn't want to leave, but I knew I had to go as soon as I could to get to vet in time. I loaded up my car with everything but the gerbils. My cats ran inside and were staring at them. Grandma wanted me to take a picture of the cats looking at my gerbils, so I did. Blondie was not moving much. I knew this might be the last picture of her that I took. I didn't want it to be for several reasons, but the most immediate being that I knew I'd be thinking that looking back on it. I would rather have had the ones of her eating pumpkin seeds be the one I'd remember as the last.
I warmed up a wash cloth with a hair dryer to give to Blondie. Angelina liked it more, I think. Blondie stayed mostly in her box.
I said bye to Grandma and Dad and was on my way. Having a sick gerbil in the car makes every bump bigger, every turn sharper, and every slow car slower. We were listening to Ophelia by Natalie Merchant. I cried for my baby, but I still had hope that once she had some medicine, she would start to get better and maybe back to her old self again soon.
When I got to Sikeston, I found the vet's office without much trouble. The office looked pretty clean. There was a woman with a small puppy in the room where they see the pets. The vet was looking through a microscope behind the counter. The secretary was on the phone.
The vet came to talk to me about the baytril. I asked if she could see Blondie. She said that would be another $18. I said that I probably wouldn't want her to see Blondie because she already had an appointment in Columbia. The vet went back to make the medicine. She was a small woman, maybe in her early fifties. I would describer her as being Western, I don't know why, maybe even a cowboy. She wasn't in a hurry.
I sat and read the scrolling LED sign in the waiting area while waiting. It had a lot of cute pictures and gave a lot of info about medicines and having pets fixed and all that. Then suddenly, "It's November, 1999." it said on one screen. Excuse me? "Any questions?" was the next sign. I thought about it. If it really was November 1999, that means I'm still a senior in high school. I've been dating Eric for a couple of months now. We're very happy. I don't have gerbils, yet. None of my gerbils, even the originals, are born yet. I live at home still. What would I do differently? Oh, wow... So, why November, 1999? Would I go back if I could? Yes.
"I'll see if we can get you in, you know, we're booked solid. No, we're booked solid." the secretary said to someone on the phone. I don't understand what she meant by booked solid. There seemed to be no one there!
The vet came back out after a while, maybe eight minutes. She had only a syringe in her hand. I was dumbstruck. I knew it was what Blondie needed, but I expected the little bottle with medicine. "It's all you needed for her, wasn't it?" Well, yes. I asked if the woman could see her and if that would take long. "Let me check my schedule."
The vet went behind the counter and looked at her appointment book. "We have some time now."
I brought the huge cage in. The vet looked at my Blondie and asked vet-type questions about her. She listened to her heart. "How old is she?" I hate that question. People always tell me, "Oh, that's pretty old for a gerbil." Yes, she is three years in four months old. Yes, she is old for a gerbil. I know that. The vet went to make some kind of solution. She was gone another five minutes or so, just long enough, again, for me to wonder what she was doing.
She came back with the original syringe of baytril. She said we'd give her that, then she was going to inject her with fluids and electrolytes to help her out some until she could be seen later. We gave her the baytril. As I put her back in the cage, I knew it was all wrong. Blondie was reacting the same way LBO did when she had the fatal last dosage of medicine. I called to the vet to come because I thought Blondie was having a heart attack. I saw more than I wanted to before I could turn my back. I understood what was going on. The vet said, "Yeah, just a little bit of excitement when they're not doing well will do that." This is what I had feared would happen and it did.
She took Blondie away and said she was going to do something. I knew there was nothing that could be done at that point. I started to cry a little, but I knew that the vet or the secretary or the other mysterious helper who came out but once would be of no comfort to me. I held back my tears. The vet came back out empty-handed and said that she was gone. I knew it.
I asked if she could put Blondie in a small box for me.
It was strange leaving that place. We talked about my gerbil history briefly as I paid for the services. But when I left, looking at the vet and the secretary, it seemed as if I had never even been there.
I got in my car and was now confused and shaken. Should I go back home or on to Columbia? All my stuff is packed, I've already come one of the five hours, it's early. I really couldn't make up my mind. I called my mom and decided that I would come back home for a few more days.
Eric called me back a little before noon. I told him that when he comes, we'll be burying two gerbils. I cried so hard while talking to him that I was afraid I'd have a wreck. I talked about our baby.
I made it back home around 1 PM. I unloaded my car. I was thinking that I did all of that just for Blondie. I wasn't ready to go home yet, but I loaded up my car completely, woke up early, and was willing to drive five hours just to get her to a vet that knows her. I did all that and still, unloading my car, I was doing it for her. My Blondie baby is worth every bit of it.
Blondie was one of my seven little surprises I woke up to on August 3, 2001. She was spoiled even before she had fur. Once her fur came in, it was clear she was special, being the only 'blonde' one and the others brown like Shirley. I tried to give them all enough attention, but Blondie was the only one I could tell apart and be certain of that I was playing with everyday. I knew I would keep her the minute she showed a blonde fur. Like all my babies, she never had to drink water directly from the tap, only filtered or bottled water. She always had cardboard tubes, boxes, and paper to keep her occupied. Blondie was a sniffer. She sniffed probably more than any other gerbil. When she was still a little gerb, she fell off my shoulder and broke her front leg. It healed soon, as goes with most small creatures. Blondie was trained to climb up my arm anytime I stuck my hand in the cage. She knew she was special. Blondie was a very calm and relaxed gerbil. She had the disposition of her mother, who was also a calm baby. Blondie knew when I was going to play with her. She would stand on the highest object in her box and look up at me. Blondie, like her sister, LBO, lived with me in three different apartments: Holiday House (where she was born), Forrest Village, and Woodlake. Blondie and LBO were the 'supermodel gerbs' of all the babies I had, so Eric called them because of their perfect gerbil figures. Blondie got plumper in her old age and was very cute and soft. I will miss my baby. She's probably grooming LBO somewhere right now.
I'm looking forward to spending some more time at home.
I'm grateful for:
1. All the good times I've had with Blondie and what a good gerbil she's been through the years.
2. Angelina being healthy still.
3. The chance to stay home a while longer.