Elle Vampa

This weekly loss marks a sad milestone. Since 2015 I have been with pets non-stop, yet this afternoon my last little furry friend passed away.

Dorian the grey gerbil (named after Oscar Wilde’s only novel) died in my arms after having lived a long life.

A lot of people seem to care only for size when it comes to mourning pets, and if you are one of them I suggest you blame my tears on my loser-ness.

But I wholeheartedly believe that, no matter what type of pet you have, however big or small, old, young, hairy or bald, you ought to take care of them the best you can. And that means, in my case, love them with everything you’ve got.

Dorian took a turn for the worse earlier this week, but remained energetic enough to run around his imperial castle and turn the place completely upside down.

However, last night he took a worse turn for the worse and I spent this morning trying desperately to find a vet that wasn’t closed so I could have him humanely put to sleep.

I like to think Dorian had other plans, because no vet answered my calls and I didn’t have any other choice but to sit and hold my buddy until the end.

And thankfully, he was spared another day of pain and suffering.

He passed away while being held by the person who loved him most. As ends come, I’d like mine to be similar.

Some people say animals have no reason, no soul. I don’t believe that.

I’ve always wondered if my pets know how much I love them. Today I wonder if I ever realized how much they loved me.

Dorian, you leave me with an empty cage, a silent house, a lot of tears, but above all, a very fulfilled heart.

And I know.

Me too.