My Itchy Boy died today. He was 7 and a little bit, but his body was
much older.

He was on the Christmas Giving Tree and many of you wrote to say how
special a boy he truly was. See very early on we discovered Itchy had a
special talent. He helped the hopeless. There is a long list, but two
of the most dramatic that come to mind are RosiLea and Peanut.

RosiLea's world was Farli and when he died, she wanted too also but
Itchy would have none of it. He allowed her a 'respectable' mourning
period, consoled her by curling up and around her, being a shoulder
and a rock for her. But by the middle of the second day Itchy realized
she could not go on like that. First he nudged her, then he pushed her,
what ever it would take to make her move. When she just slid away with
a 'leave me alone', he grabbed her and drug her. He drug her to the
food bowl, he drug her to the potty box, he drug her to bed, constantly
making her move. By the third day she was moving just so he would stop
dragging her. At night and for naps he'd curl around her and was never
far from her side. Watching and waiting, sharing her heart break,
willing her to live. By day three he had gotten her to eat and although
we all know she was still distraught over loosing Farli, Itchy willed
her to live. And she did.

He did the same for Peanut two years before when Peanut's long time
cage mate Bishop (When Lightening Strikes at FurpeopleWeyr.com) died.
Only with a twist. Both Peanut and Bishop died from lymphoma and Itchy
stayed close during each one's final days, providing comfort, safety
and warmth. When Bishop died and Peanut faltered, Itchy refused to let
him go.

Itchy's best friend is Nemis. In their last several months, both have
lost virtually all their hair to adrenal. Both have suffered from knee
problems, both have insulinoma and cardiac issues. Each also had their
own special challenges. Itches left knee was his 'football' knee, the
connective tissues that held it together weren't anymore. To make
matters a little more challenging for a guy running around on three
legs and his heart, Itchy was blind as a bat. None of that stopped him
from playing in the tubes, slowly, or watching over his best buddy
Nyhm, who is twice his size, curling up with him through his latest
illness, keeping him warm, keeping him safe.

I feel so bad. When my Itchy boy needed someone to keep him warm and
safe, I was asleep. He'd gotten up in the middle of our night and gone
to the potty box. We don't know why or what happened, but he only made
it half way back to Nyhm. When I awoke, I found him lying, barely
conscience, in the open, ice cold but still alive. I rushed him to his
doctor who thankfully stayed late to try to help him. We did everything
we could think of to help him, but here after we got home, on his
couch, in one of his favorite sleep sacks, he stopped breathing. I
couldn't bring him back. I feel I let him down.

He helped so many, gave so much of himself to others it aged him beyond
his years. Rose, Peanut and Nyhm were just a few. He was so special,
there for those that needed him. But I wasn't.

I buried him next to RosiLea, with a tube, cookies and his favorite
kind of blanket and in that sleep sack. Ordinarily we all go out to
play in the pre-dawn hours, but I just can't face that grave yet.

I love you Itchy Boy.

Mama

[Posted in FML 6362]