Today is the six month anniversary of the day my Bear Ryan passed away.
It's hard to believe it's been that long already.  I still sleep with the
shirt his blood was spilled on (no, I'm not morbid) every night.  I wasn't
with him when he passed away, not exactly.  They opened him up, and his
adrenal tumor had punctured his aorta.  There was nothing they could do
but stitch him back up and let me say goodbye.  I couldn't hold him (I
thought, in my blur of tears, that he was on machines...they were just
monitors and could've been removed), and the vet made me leave the room
when he euthanized him.  The last time I held my baby he was dead.  I had
adopted him with his sisters Smokey, Grandma, and Bandit (who is becoming
very thin..she's going to the vet tomorrow) and had only been owned by
him for four months.  Since we didn't know their birthdays we decided
March 15 would be a collective birthday for them.  Unfortunately he won't
get to see it, and Bandit may not either.  He would've been seven.
 
Please tell him I love him, and I still think about him every day.  Tell
him I know we'll be reunited someday, and I take comfort in the fact that
he's whole, happy, and playful.  I never got to see him weasel war dance
when he was alive, so I hope he's dancing like crazy at the Bridge.
 
Thanks Sandee, I appreciate all you do.
 
Ellen and the furheads (Bridget, Brandon, Zoe, Zeus, Cujo, Chaos, Clyde,
Grandma, Smokey, Bandit, and MollyCat...Missing Bear)
[Posted in FML issue 3721]