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I’ve heard it said that, sometimes, someone comes into your life, unexpectedly, and makes a home there, filling a void that you never even knew you had. That’s the way it was with Mr. White, my dear pet rat, who passed away in my hands last night.

When we first decided to get pet rats, Natalie and I acquired Yuki. As he wasn’t the friendliest of animals, we soon acquired Blue, and, to keep her company, Nezumi. Nezumi, tiny little bundle of hate that she’s always been, turned out to have been pregnant when we got her, and in due course gave us a litter of little ratlets. There were the girls: Maggie, She Who Licks, and She Who Hates. And then there was the one boy: Mr. White. When we found out that he was the only boy, we were dissapointed. We knew we couldn’t safely keep him with the rest of the girls, and we didn’t want to have to deal with another cage just for him. Plus, we didn’t think it would have been fair to him to not get the socialization that the others would get. So we tried to give him away. It seems silly now, but we did. Thankfully, in hindsight, no one took him, so we raised him up ourselves. Looking back on it, I wouldn’t trade a single day that we spent with the little dude for anything.

As they grew, each of the ratlets developed his or her own personality: inquisitive, greedy, friendly, shy… You don’t really understand just how such a tiny animal can have such a huge personality until you see them develop. Each one was as unique as can be, and Mr. White was no exception. As he was alone, unable to bond with the other rats, he, instead, bonded to us. He became an incredibly sweet, gentle, loving pet, who would, every day, gladly pass by fresh food and instead rub up against our hands in search of affection. He could, and would, spend hours on end cuddled up on our laps, begging for scratches behind his ears, or to be bundled up resting against us.

Many of you may have the experience of coming home after a hard day and finding your dog waiting for you at the door, tail wagging, completely and totally overjoyed that you’re home, ready to shower you in unconditional affection. This is not something limited to dogs: Mr. White’s cage was right next to my computer, and every night when I sat down, he would rush up to the corner facing me, looking for ways to get my attention and get me to hold him.

If I’d known how short his time with me would be, I would have held him much more often than I did.

Every day for the past two years, Mr. White’s been there for us, for me. He’s always been my little dude, my co-conspirator, my dawg. And he never asked for anything in return other than to be allowed to stay with me, to be held and loved and to love in return.

3 days ago, this amazing little animal fell ill.

His breathing became labored, and he had begun to have panic attacks as it got harder for him to breathe. We took him to the vet the next morning, and, after running some tests, the doctor told us that Mr. White had a lung infection, and that it was serious. he gave him a shot of antibiotics, and gave us some additional medicine to give him. We did as the doctor asked, and gave him his medicine twice a day, and spent as much time as we could with him, holding him, trying to help him relax and breathe.

Last night, when I got home, I was told that Mr. White had been breathing heavily most of the day, and that he had a few panic attacks. Seeing him scared in his cage, I picked him up and held him close to me, whispering soothing words, trying to give him the comfort he needed… it wasn’t enough. At first, his breathing relaxed, and he settled into the crook of my arm, resting.. but not long after, his breathing become more and more labored, and he would squirm in obvious fear and confusion as he wasn’t getting enough air. I felt him struggling in my hands, I could see the fear in his eyes, the way he would try to leap and get closer and closer to me, looking for help from the person he trusted. Even as he began gasping for breath in my hands, as his eyes became unfocused and his gasping breaths more irregular, and I cried and whispered fiercely that it would be alright, that there was nothing to be afraid of, that he was safe with me, I felt a knife stab and twist in my guts as I knew he was dying in my hands… I told him I loved him, over and over, and I hope those were the last words he heard, before the tiny little flame of his life went out right in my arms.

I don’t remember the next few minutes very clearly.

I know we put his body, when I could finally bear to let go of it, and we wrapped it in a shirt and placed him in a box, while we figured out how to say goodbye. There was no place to bury him in our house anymore, and he deserves better than the meager, shallow grave I could have dug him. We finally found a place that will cremate your pet’s remains, and I managed to keep it together enough to make arrangements for his cremation.

I didn’t sleep very well last night. Neither did Natalie, who loved him every bit as fiercely as I did.

This morning, I woke up, and as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, the sudden memory of last night, the realization that he wouldn’t be there to sniff at my fingers and beg to be scratched as he did every morning, hit me like a punch in the stomach. For a second, I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t cry. If the depth of my grief surprises you, believe me, it surprises me too, but I can’t deny it. I had no time to get ready, no time to prepare for this.. not that I could have ever been prepared to lose my little dude. I picked him up last night intending to comfort him so the medicines would take effect, hoping madly that he was strong, that he would get through this. And in a matter of minutes, he was gone. I’m glad that he was in my hands, being held, being cradled, when he went. I’m glad that the last words and feelings he felt from us were love.

I may not beleive in many things, but love is the one thing that remains, the one thing that lasts, even when life goes away. Love is what remains, eternal.

I took his body to the animal clinic this morning. The people from the cremation service will pick him up and keep his body for us until Saturday, when we can go and be there for his cremation, and receive his ashes.

Even though I knew that all I was giving them was his body, it was still one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, to leave him there. I couldn’t trust my voice to put two words together without having to choke back a sob. Wordlessly, I paid the fees, and literally ran out of there, barely making it back to the car before crumpling in on myself, sobbing and wailing. The depth and pain of my grief is staggering to me, and even if I don’t fully understand it, it’s a testament to the effect he had on my life that I still can’t write these sentences without blinking back tears.

It hasn’t been an easy day. The world goes on, and it makes me angry that people keep living their lives and nothing changes. I still have to work, I still have to meet with clients, and drive, and do my job. And nothing has changed. It hasn’t been an easy day. I’ve managed to keep myself composed in front of clients, only to finally burst into tears again when I get back to my car. I finally have some time alone, and I’m writing this as the only way I know to let my emotions out somehow, to not break down again back here among the computers and cables.

Tonight, I’ll get home, and I’ll sit down, and his cage will be empty, and it won’t be there, and he won’t be there. And I will cry again.

His cremation will be on Saturday. We’re going to be there to see him off, and to receive his ashes, which we will keep in his memory. Maybe it will help, maybe it will provide some closure. Natalie and I both have much to live for, we have each other, we have the rest of the girls who still need us. But now we have a hole again, that we never knew we had until we met him, and that will never really be filled again.

Thank you, little dude. I would give anything for one last moment of looking into your eyes, one last time holding you and watching you scurrying around in my lap and sniffing up at my face and cuddling up against me and begging for attention. You deserved better than this life could ever give you. Thank you for making my life more than it was before you were in it.

I miss you. I always will.