The true definition of trust
The truest show of trust I have ever seen between people and critters happened last night.
Midian-- my sweet old-lady rat-- spent the night sleeping on her little fleece blanket on my pillow, curled up between Kahril and I as we slept. I woke up periodically in the night when she moved, just to make sure she was okay. At one point she was trying to climb up the covers to my shoulder; I lifted her up and settled her in the crook of my neck (I was sleeping on my side). Occasionally she'd start to slide off, and I'd reflexively prop her back up. I woke up at some point with her sleeping on my face.
I found it remarkable that she was trusting enough to sleep between two giant (comparatively) and trust them not to squoosh her in the night, and that we in turn trusted her not to wander off the bed, chew holes in things, or leave raisins in our hair.
It hurts to watch her deteriorate, to listen to her laboured breathing and her overworked heart. She drank a little bit of water today, and she's getting Baytril and Doxy in her Ensure twice a day, so hopefully her lungs will clear up. That'll let her eat more. If a rat has to choose between swallowing and breathing, they'll choose breathing. I don't want her to be forced to choose and starve to death. We're trying to get nutrients in to her, but she's still so thin...
She knows we're ready to let go whenever she's ready to leave. We'd like her to stay around as long as she's comfortable, but she knows we don't want her to suffer. It was important to her, though, that we would be okay with her dying. We had a talk the other morning, and I let her know that we want what's best for her, whatever that is.
I know I'll see her again, but it doesn't make losing a friend any easier. It's moments like last night, though, that make memories to ease the passing.
Midian-- my sweet old-lady rat-- spent the night sleeping on her little fleece blanket on my pillow, curled up between Kahril and I as we slept. I woke up periodically in the night when she moved, just to make sure she was okay. At one point she was trying to climb up the covers to my shoulder; I lifted her up and settled her in the crook of my neck (I was sleeping on my side). Occasionally she'd start to slide off, and I'd reflexively prop her back up. I woke up at some point with her sleeping on my face.
I found it remarkable that she was trusting enough to sleep between two giant (comparatively) and trust them not to squoosh her in the night, and that we in turn trusted her not to wander off the bed, chew holes in things, or leave raisins in our hair.
It hurts to watch her deteriorate, to listen to her laboured breathing and her overworked heart. She drank a little bit of water today, and she's getting Baytril and Doxy in her Ensure twice a day, so hopefully her lungs will clear up. That'll let her eat more. If a rat has to choose between swallowing and breathing, they'll choose breathing. I don't want her to be forced to choose and starve to death. We're trying to get nutrients in to her, but she's still so thin...
She knows we're ready to let go whenever she's ready to leave. We'd like her to stay around as long as she's comfortable, but she knows we don't want her to suffer. It was important to her, though, that we would be okay with her dying. We had a talk the other morning, and I let her know that we want what's best for her, whatever that is.
I know I'll see her again, but it doesn't make losing a friend any easier. It's moments like last night, though, that make memories to ease the passing.