Flash died yesterday. He was only 2 years of age. I found him lying at the bottom of his condo and knew instantly that he was gone; he never lies there.
I can't help but feel that it was my own fault. For the last two weeks I have been undergoing mock GCSE examinations, and for that reason I spent most of my out of school time revising. Therefore, the majority of the last 2 weeks of Flash's life was spent in his cage; he only got a snatched half hour of free-time here and there during the weekdays. I'm almost certain that, if it was an illness that took him from me, had I taken that extra time to allow him out for a run around I would have noticed any change in behaviour and maybe he'd still be here today.
I found him lying underneath the first shelf of his condo with his eyes open, still shining. The material that covered the shelf was scrunched up and out of place. It is this that makes me feel that perhaps he didn't die from an illness, but from falling from the shelf. This, at least, is a slight reassurance in that if this was the case, his passing must have been instant. A reassurance until the pang of guilt hits me; I could have prevented it if I'd SEWN the material to the shelf. The worst thing? I'd done that with the first piece of material, but as he'd never attempted to move it decided to use Velcro for the second piece so that I could pick it up and throw it in the washer every week. It seems that my selfish want for convience cost Flash his life.
Yesterday was going to be the day that I made it up to him. I'd planned it; he was going to spend the day running around and playing in the kitchen, and then in the evening after the Christmas decorations were up in the living room I was going to take Christmas themed photographs and put them up here, and then he'd feature on the front of Christmas cards along with Scamp and the foster guinea pigs. I remember looking at him at 1 o' clock on Sunday morning when I checked his hay and water before I went to bed, feeling awful for how he'd been cooped up for most of the week. And do you know what I told myself? I said 'Don't beat yourself up too much about it Spud, he'll still be here tomorrow and you can make it up to him'.
I'd just like to say, to any pet owners that have examinations looming or are finding themselves tied by work, don't allow anything to get in the way of giving your pets the attention that they deserve. Flash went from having 4 hours per weekday out of his cage to 30 minutes whenever I could manage. His last days must have been boring, lonely and miserable, and if I could turn back the clock I'd sacrifice any of my grades for more time with him. Work hard, guys, but remember the pet that will love you unconditionally regardless of everything else. They might
not still be here tomorrow.
I know that none of you guys would ever make the mistakes that I did with Flash, but I'd like each of you to give your pets an extra hug before you go to bed tonight. They love you no matter what. So make sure they
know that you love them just as much.
Sleep well Flash. You deserved better.
165 pounds
6 pounds
