Cornfield Meet

Things collide here.

Goodbye, Snickers

So my heading-into-sixth-grade daughter gets a call from one of her friends this afternoon: Snickers is sick. Really sick. Dying sick.

Has-to-be-put-to-sleep sick.

Snickers is a ferret. My daughter and her friend have known each other since kindergarten, and since they only live about a mile a way, the two of them have spent a lot of time in each other’s houses, and Snickers, one of many pets belonging to my daughter’s friend, is a fond animal to my kid, too. (Both of these girls are absolute animal nuts – my daughter fills the DVR with those seriously oocky animal surgery/rescue shows, and even when I can’t watch, I love the fact that she’s so into them.)

So, the call: They’re taking Snickers to the vet to be put to sleep, and my daughter’s friend wants her to come along. They come over in their minivan, Snickers peering weakly out from a blanket on a lap. We all give him (her? I honestly don’t know)gentle scratches behind his tiny ears. His bones feel close to the skin. He feels fragile.

My daughter returns a couple hours later, goes up to the bathroom wordlessly. Comes out a few minutes later and barrels into my arms as I’m climbing the steps to make sure she’s OK. She’s just sobbing, and I can feel tears in my shirt.

My daughter tells me later that she and her friend stood in the vets office hugging when Snickers was taken away. They’d waited together for Snickers’ body to be brought out for a backyard burial at home.

It was still a little bit light outside when my daughter went to bed. Sometimes she jokes about not sleeping anymore with the worn, stuffed dolly she’s had since she was born. Tonight she didn’t say anything about it, but I saw her tugging it close under her pillow.

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June 12, 2008 - Posted by | Uncategorized

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