Yesterday we laid to rest one of our pet gerbils, Sammy. The gerbils were a gift for my son a little over two years ago. I never thought I would become attached to a rodent, but once I got to know him and his brother better, and realized how sweet and fun and friendly they were, I grew quite fond of them. They had distinct personalities. Sammy was always the more adventurous of the two, rushing headlong into new experiences while his brother was more tentative.
I watched Sammy decline into death this week. I called the vet and described his symptoms, but he said there was little I could do but make him as comfortable as possible. I kept the house warm when I otherwise would have turned the heat down. I brought the water bottle to him until he wouldn’t drink anymore. I hand fed him peas and seeds, until finally peas were the only thing he would eat (they were his favorite). I watched him stumble, close his eyes, and lay down for the last time.
I am grateful that his brother snuggled with him to give him warmth and comfort in his final days. I am grateful my son was here with him when he died. I am grateful that I was home and able to check on him periodically, give him food and water, and help him through this transition. But of course, as a mom, the question nags at me in the back of my mind….did I do enough?
Should I have taken him to the vet? Was it something treatable? Gerbils tend to hide their illness until they can’t anymore, so I didn’t realize anything was wrong until a few days ago. Did he die unnecessarily? Earlier than he should have?
The vet said he had reached the end of a normal gerbil life span (he was almost three). Yet his brother, who is the same age, seems healthy and fit. What if I made a mistake?
I have made mistakes with people in my life, with not doing enough. There were key moments that were difficult for loved ones close to me, when I should have been there for them and I wasn’t. Not for any good reason except that I didn’t realize I should have been. I didn’t realize they needed me.
I’m so used to going through life trying to need as few people as possible as little as possible; because I learned early on that the only person I could ever rely on was myself. I forget that it isn’t a two-way street, that even if I don’t need others, sometimes they need me.
This I am trying to be better at — being less of an island. So I am always questioning myself when someone relies on me. As I am now. Did I do enough for my son’s pet? Did I prepare my son well enough for his death? Did I do enough to make Sammy’s passing gentle? I like to think the answer to all of these is yes. My son has accepted it; in fact he’s had all week to prepare. And Sammy didn’t seem to be in any undue distress, just feeble and weak.
I hope I did the best I could. That’s all we can ever do. That, and be mindful that we need to step it up when people (or animals, for that matter) need us. We are not islands, as much as some of us might think we are. Our lives are interwoven, and sometimes we are called upon to help in an extraordinary way, one that might be out of our comfort zone.
I think I did the right thing. I think I did the best I could. Now the hard part will be seeing Chester live the rest of his life without his beloved brother. But we will step it up for him too, and give him more attention than we did before. After all, it’s the least we can do. He depends on us. And we will be there for him.
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Hope & Relevance 