Petey the Possum
Okay, story time, kiddies. A sad story, but it must be told. Please forgive my childish writing, I have not slept. K? K.
EDIT: Also, made public, so Mom can link to her flist. Hi guys!! :)
Last night, at around 2:30ish, Mom and I had just finished watching a really decent Lifetime movie called Not Like Everyone Else. No, really, for a Lifetime movie it was very good. I swear on my credibility as a movie lover.
Anyway...we were out of smokes, so we hopped in the car to go get some more. Mom was in her nightgown, and was unwilling to go into the store in that state for some reason, so I (being fully dressed with shoes on and everything) was to be the tobacco purchaser. Kind of a moot point, seeing as how we didn't go directly to the store. As we were driving along Ocean Beach Highway in the left hand lane, I saw a small possum in the right hand lane, quite close to our car. It was just sitting there, watching us pass, but it was definitely alive.
For those of you not familiar with what a possum is, try to think of them of the armadillos of the north, or something. Usually, if you see a possum, it's lying squished on the side of the road. People very rarely see them alive, unless they happen to have some living in a tree on their property (as we had once...cute little family living in the giant laurel tree at the corner of our deck. They like peanut butter and dry cat food), or are lucky enough, and kind enough to see them crossing the road in the middle of the night and stop for them instead of running them over (as we did once...easy to see why they're seen dead on the side of roads so often, because that particular little guy was running as fast as his furry little legs could carry him - literally, they were a BLUR under his body - and a turtle could have given him a run for his money).
Anyway, this little guy was definitely alive, sitting up on his hind legs in the middle of a lane on a normally busy street just watching us as we passed by. I asked Mom if she'd seen him, and she said she saw something, and being the suckers animal lovers that we are, we decided to turn around real quick to make sure the little guy got to the side of the road unsquished.
When we got back to where I had seen him, he was still sitting in the middle of the right lane. Mom stopped in the turn lane in the middle of the road, and I hopped out to try and shoo the little bugger to safety. He was pretty small, about half the size that possums usually are, so we fugured he was a teenager. He took a few steps, and then stopped, unwilling to move. I had sandals on, so I didn't really want to nudge him with my foot for fear he'd take offense and turn around and bite me, so I took off one of my sandals, and kind of used it to bop him on the rear a couple of times to get him moving. He turned around after the second prod and took a swipe at my sandal. It was then that I noticed he had blood on his nose, and coming out of his mouth. Not a good sign.
I told Mom that I thought he'd gotten clipped by a car because of the blood. She (being in her nightgown and barefoot) couldn't really get out of the car to help me with him, so I again tried to shoo him to the side of the road. He moved a bit more, and I noticed he was walking funny. He was really hurt. I managed to get him boosted up onto the sidewalk, and into the grass on the side next to some trees, but he just sat there. Neither Mom nor I felt right about leaving him to die a slow painful death all alone, so I asked Mom what she thought I should do, and she suggested taking him to an emergency vet. I fished around in the trunk and found a medium-sized cardboard box and some newspaper, and managed to get him into the box. I hopped in the back seat of the car with him, and Mom drove back to the house.
He seemed to be in shock, and was breathing very heavily. There was definitely blood coming out of his little nose, and his mouth, but it wasn't copious amounts. He tried to get out of the box at first, but I kept the newspaper on to of him and used it to keep him still. He didn't try to bite me, or hiss or anything remotely hostile. I really think he felt we were trying to help him. After a minute or two, he just sat there with his little claws hanging onto the side of the box, and his head poking out of the newspaper. He was really cute, and Mom said something at some point that since he's a horny little teenager, he probably got into this mess because of some stupid girl. He seemed to chill out a little, and even let me pet him on the head. His fur was SO soft.
When we got back to the house, Mom went to go put on some clothes, and I ran to grab my phone and a phonebook. I looked for an emergency 24-hour vet clinic, but the closest one listed in the phone book was in Oregon. I called the number of the vet just up the road from us, and they had an emergency number to call on their voice mail message. I called the number, and explained the situation to the lady who answered, giving the possum's symptoms, and what we thought had happened to him. "I want to be honest with you," she said, "from what you're telling me, I think that the only thing we could do for him would be to humanely euthanize him, but if you still want to bring him all the way in, we'll do what we can." I asked her where the clinic was, and she told me it was in Vancouver, which is about an hour drive from Longview. I told Mom, and asked her if she wanted to drive all that way, and she said yes. We both figured that even if they couldn't do anything to save him, that at least they could put an end to his suffering. I got directions, and told the lady we'd be there as soon as we could.
I grabbed some straws and a water bottle so I could try and get him to drink some water, and a flashlight so I could check on him periodically. Mom had found a better box, with flaps we could close in case he tried to get out again, and an old blanket to make him comfy. She also had a pair of work gloves so we could handle him a little more safely. I put on the gloves, and we transferred him into his new box, and got in the car. I squeezed his box between my knees on the floorboards in the front seat. After a quick stop for smokes, we hit the freeway at about 3:30am.
He seemed to like riding in the car, and Mom jokingly asked him how he liked being on the other side of a car. We kept talking to him, and he kept looking up at us, focusing on us, and me in particular. I kept petting him, and saying reassuring things. We started calling him Petey. Mom made a joke that Petey could be short for Petra if he turned out to be a she. We started talking about the possibility of what would happen if they couldn't do anything for him, and Mom and I both wanted to be there if they had to euthanize him, so that he'd have someone near who cared. Mom also said that she wanted to take his little body home to give him a proper burial. We followed the directions pretty well, but got a little turned around anyway, and had to call the vet for more help. Petey tried to get out of the box a couple of times, but he never tried to bite me. I only got one little scratch from him when he tried to get out the second time by attempting to climb my arm. He was such a sweetie the whole time, and was really quite active for a little guy who'd had such a bad night.
We finally found the vet, and the lady I'd talked to on the phone greeted us at the door and took us and Petey right back to the exam room with another vet tech. They both said how cute he was, and how small he was, "still a juvenile". We told them he was a real sweetie, and had been behaving himself very well for being in such a state. The lady (I think she was the doc) again said that they'd do all they could for him, but that he would probably be euthanized. I asked if that was what they eventually decided, if Mom and I could be present, but that wasn't allowed. We didn't ask about bringing his little body home.
The doc took out a big, long, thick pair of leather gloves and picked him up out of the box. She told us that he was, indeed, a boy. We were happy that we'd been calling him by the proper gender all this time. She wrapped him up in a towel, and let us say one last goodbye, then took him away to a cage in the back. The vet tech was left to show us out, and we asked if it would be possible for them to call us to let us know what happened to Petey. She took our home number, and my cell number, and said that they would call.
Mom held up pretty well until we got to the car, then she started crying. I cried a little too, and we sat in front of the vets for a few minutes to collect ourselves before we set out for home. By this time it was 5am, and the horrible dawn was approaching. We talked on the way back, saying that even if poor little Petey did have to be put to sleep, that at least we did all we could for him. I don't know anyone else, aside from Will, who would have done one tenth of what we did for that little possum. We watched the sun come up as we drove.
By the time we got back to Longview, we were pretty wired. We stopped at McDonald's for breakfast, and then decided to go for a little drive up past the freeway, a road I'd always been curious about, and that Mom hadn't taken yet. We ended up in a wooded area with some farms and ranches. We drove to the end of the road, and then started back, taking our time to enjoy the silence, and the nature after our long night. The light was beautiful, and the fields were all misted over. It was nice, very relaxing. We stopped to take a ton of pictures, some of which turned out very, very cool. I'll post them later, though. This post is for Petey.
We got back to the house at a little past 7am. I started to upload the pics from my digital camera, and we were looking through them when the phone rang. It was the vet. They said that they had put Petey in a cage, and wrapped him in a warm blanket, then given him fluids. They said he'd seemed to perk up, and was doing well for a little while, but then his breathing started to become more and more labored. He started having seizures, and they had to euthanize him. They said that they were sorry, and we thanked them for taking care of him, and for letting us know what had happened to him.
Mom and I sat in my room for a few minutes crying a little over the fate of poor little Petey. After a bit, we started looking through the pics from my camera again, and I realized that I had taken a few shots of him after we put him in his new box before we got on the road. It's nice to have something to remember him by, even if he was in our lives for such a short time. Everyone should be remembered.
This is his best picture.
Rest In Peace Petey
EDIT: Also, made public, so Mom can link to her flist. Hi guys!! :)
Last night, at around 2:30ish, Mom and I had just finished watching a really decent Lifetime movie called Not Like Everyone Else. No, really, for a Lifetime movie it was very good. I swear on my credibility as a movie lover.
Anyway...we were out of smokes, so we hopped in the car to go get some more. Mom was in her nightgown, and was unwilling to go into the store in that state for some reason, so I (being fully dressed with shoes on and everything) was to be the tobacco purchaser. Kind of a moot point, seeing as how we didn't go directly to the store. As we were driving along Ocean Beach Highway in the left hand lane, I saw a small possum in the right hand lane, quite close to our car. It was just sitting there, watching us pass, but it was definitely alive.
For those of you not familiar with what a possum is, try to think of them of the armadillos of the north, or something. Usually, if you see a possum, it's lying squished on the side of the road. People very rarely see them alive, unless they happen to have some living in a tree on their property (as we had once...cute little family living in the giant laurel tree at the corner of our deck. They like peanut butter and dry cat food), or are lucky enough, and kind enough to see them crossing the road in the middle of the night and stop for them instead of running them over (as we did once...easy to see why they're seen dead on the side of roads so often, because that particular little guy was running as fast as his furry little legs could carry him - literally, they were a BLUR under his body - and a turtle could have given him a run for his money).
Anyway, this little guy was definitely alive, sitting up on his hind legs in the middle of a lane on a normally busy street just watching us as we passed by. I asked Mom if she'd seen him, and she said she saw something, and being the suckers animal lovers that we are, we decided to turn around real quick to make sure the little guy got to the side of the road unsquished.
When we got back to where I had seen him, he was still sitting in the middle of the right lane. Mom stopped in the turn lane in the middle of the road, and I hopped out to try and shoo the little bugger to safety. He was pretty small, about half the size that possums usually are, so we fugured he was a teenager. He took a few steps, and then stopped, unwilling to move. I had sandals on, so I didn't really want to nudge him with my foot for fear he'd take offense and turn around and bite me, so I took off one of my sandals, and kind of used it to bop him on the rear a couple of times to get him moving. He turned around after the second prod and took a swipe at my sandal. It was then that I noticed he had blood on his nose, and coming out of his mouth. Not a good sign.
I told Mom that I thought he'd gotten clipped by a car because of the blood. She (being in her nightgown and barefoot) couldn't really get out of the car to help me with him, so I again tried to shoo him to the side of the road. He moved a bit more, and I noticed he was walking funny. He was really hurt. I managed to get him boosted up onto the sidewalk, and into the grass on the side next to some trees, but he just sat there. Neither Mom nor I felt right about leaving him to die a slow painful death all alone, so I asked Mom what she thought I should do, and she suggested taking him to an emergency vet. I fished around in the trunk and found a medium-sized cardboard box and some newspaper, and managed to get him into the box. I hopped in the back seat of the car with him, and Mom drove back to the house.
He seemed to be in shock, and was breathing very heavily. There was definitely blood coming out of his little nose, and his mouth, but it wasn't copious amounts. He tried to get out of the box at first, but I kept the newspaper on to of him and used it to keep him still. He didn't try to bite me, or hiss or anything remotely hostile. I really think he felt we were trying to help him. After a minute or two, he just sat there with his little claws hanging onto the side of the box, and his head poking out of the newspaper. He was really cute, and Mom said something at some point that since he's a horny little teenager, he probably got into this mess because of some stupid girl. He seemed to chill out a little, and even let me pet him on the head. His fur was SO soft.
When we got back to the house, Mom went to go put on some clothes, and I ran to grab my phone and a phonebook. I looked for an emergency 24-hour vet clinic, but the closest one listed in the phone book was in Oregon. I called the number of the vet just up the road from us, and they had an emergency number to call on their voice mail message. I called the number, and explained the situation to the lady who answered, giving the possum's symptoms, and what we thought had happened to him. "I want to be honest with you," she said, "from what you're telling me, I think that the only thing we could do for him would be to humanely euthanize him, but if you still want to bring him all the way in, we'll do what we can." I asked her where the clinic was, and she told me it was in Vancouver, which is about an hour drive from Longview. I told Mom, and asked her if she wanted to drive all that way, and she said yes. We both figured that even if they couldn't do anything to save him, that at least they could put an end to his suffering. I got directions, and told the lady we'd be there as soon as we could.
I grabbed some straws and a water bottle so I could try and get him to drink some water, and a flashlight so I could check on him periodically. Mom had found a better box, with flaps we could close in case he tried to get out again, and an old blanket to make him comfy. She also had a pair of work gloves so we could handle him a little more safely. I put on the gloves, and we transferred him into his new box, and got in the car. I squeezed his box between my knees on the floorboards in the front seat. After a quick stop for smokes, we hit the freeway at about 3:30am.
He seemed to like riding in the car, and Mom jokingly asked him how he liked being on the other side of a car. We kept talking to him, and he kept looking up at us, focusing on us, and me in particular. I kept petting him, and saying reassuring things. We started calling him Petey. Mom made a joke that Petey could be short for Petra if he turned out to be a she. We started talking about the possibility of what would happen if they couldn't do anything for him, and Mom and I both wanted to be there if they had to euthanize him, so that he'd have someone near who cared. Mom also said that she wanted to take his little body home to give him a proper burial. We followed the directions pretty well, but got a little turned around anyway, and had to call the vet for more help. Petey tried to get out of the box a couple of times, but he never tried to bite me. I only got one little scratch from him when he tried to get out the second time by attempting to climb my arm. He was such a sweetie the whole time, and was really quite active for a little guy who'd had such a bad night.
We finally found the vet, and the lady I'd talked to on the phone greeted us at the door and took us and Petey right back to the exam room with another vet tech. They both said how cute he was, and how small he was, "still a juvenile". We told them he was a real sweetie, and had been behaving himself very well for being in such a state. The lady (I think she was the doc) again said that they'd do all they could for him, but that he would probably be euthanized. I asked if that was what they eventually decided, if Mom and I could be present, but that wasn't allowed. We didn't ask about bringing his little body home.
The doc took out a big, long, thick pair of leather gloves and picked him up out of the box. She told us that he was, indeed, a boy. We were happy that we'd been calling him by the proper gender all this time. She wrapped him up in a towel, and let us say one last goodbye, then took him away to a cage in the back. The vet tech was left to show us out, and we asked if it would be possible for them to call us to let us know what happened to Petey. She took our home number, and my cell number, and said that they would call.
Mom held up pretty well until we got to the car, then she started crying. I cried a little too, and we sat in front of the vets for a few minutes to collect ourselves before we set out for home. By this time it was 5am, and the horrible dawn was approaching. We talked on the way back, saying that even if poor little Petey did have to be put to sleep, that at least we did all we could for him. I don't know anyone else, aside from Will, who would have done one tenth of what we did for that little possum. We watched the sun come up as we drove.
By the time we got back to Longview, we were pretty wired. We stopped at McDonald's for breakfast, and then decided to go for a little drive up past the freeway, a road I'd always been curious about, and that Mom hadn't taken yet. We ended up in a wooded area with some farms and ranches. We drove to the end of the road, and then started back, taking our time to enjoy the silence, and the nature after our long night. The light was beautiful, and the fields were all misted over. It was nice, very relaxing. We stopped to take a ton of pictures, some of which turned out very, very cool. I'll post them later, though. This post is for Petey.
We got back to the house at a little past 7am. I started to upload the pics from my digital camera, and we were looking through them when the phone rang. It was the vet. They said that they had put Petey in a cage, and wrapped him in a warm blanket, then given him fluids. They said he'd seemed to perk up, and was doing well for a little while, but then his breathing started to become more and more labored. He started having seizures, and they had to euthanize him. They said that they were sorry, and we thanked them for taking care of him, and for letting us know what had happened to him.
Mom and I sat in my room for a few minutes crying a little over the fate of poor little Petey. After a bit, we started looking through the pics from my camera again, and I realized that I had taken a few shots of him after we put him in his new box before we got on the road. It's nice to have something to remember him by, even if he was in our lives for such a short time. Everyone should be remembered.
This is his best picture.
Rest In Peace Petey