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Other Shoes, and the Dropping Thereof
Apr. 28th, 2006 11:35 amThings were going so well. I was hoping to post here today about the joys of taking my bandages off, and finally enjoying a long, hot bath, and inviting friends over. I should have known something would eventually have to go wrong.
Oh, I'm fine myself. My knee is starting to ache a little, but that's to be expected. Bandages should still come off within the next couple of hours, I've still got enough random entertainment piled up to keep me busy, and I've got a small forest of flowers from well-wishers.
No, nothing's wrong with me. But last night I had to euthanize my snake, Orpheus.
He hadn't been doing well for a while, to be completely honest. Reptiles do everything slowly - they metabolize slowly, they think slowly, they get sick slowly. I had thought that it was just stress from going out and performing with the Babydolls and me, but in retrospect I can see that it was more than that. My best guess is that he had some kind of intestinal obstruction, probably cancer, slow-growing enough that the only sign was a little cracking in his skin when he tried to swallow his food. Until yesterday, of course, when he wasn't able to swallow anything anymore. I couldn't have done anything, even if I had figured it out earlier. Honestly, I couldn't have figured it out earlier. There weren't any other signs - he was active and energetic until the end. That doesn't make it hurt any less.
I was lucky enough to have a friend at a clinic who came in after hours and let me euthanize him myself. I didn't want anyone else poking and squeezing and traumatizing him; he was clearly in enough distress. This way, I knew at least I could make his passing as gentle and unstressful as possible. I've never had to put one of my own pets down before; another milestone, I guess.
He was a damn stupid snake. He was scarred and slow and he didn't eat for six months after I adopted him. I nursed him through mites and retained spectacles and attempts to devour his own bedding. He always tried to swallow his food sideways. He peed on me in the middle of a performance.
He went to elementary school classes with me and taught kids not to be afraid of reptiles. He was my scaly ambassador of goodwill to herpephobes everywhere. For a creature with a brain the size of a craisin, I think he still managed to figure out that he liked people.
I miss him already.
Oh, I'm fine myself. My knee is starting to ache a little, but that's to be expected. Bandages should still come off within the next couple of hours, I've still got enough random entertainment piled up to keep me busy, and I've got a small forest of flowers from well-wishers.
No, nothing's wrong with me. But last night I had to euthanize my snake, Orpheus.
He hadn't been doing well for a while, to be completely honest. Reptiles do everything slowly - they metabolize slowly, they think slowly, they get sick slowly. I had thought that it was just stress from going out and performing with the Babydolls and me, but in retrospect I can see that it was more than that. My best guess is that he had some kind of intestinal obstruction, probably cancer, slow-growing enough that the only sign was a little cracking in his skin when he tried to swallow his food. Until yesterday, of course, when he wasn't able to swallow anything anymore. I couldn't have done anything, even if I had figured it out earlier. Honestly, I couldn't have figured it out earlier. There weren't any other signs - he was active and energetic until the end. That doesn't make it hurt any less.
I was lucky enough to have a friend at a clinic who came in after hours and let me euthanize him myself. I didn't want anyone else poking and squeezing and traumatizing him; he was clearly in enough distress. This way, I knew at least I could make his passing as gentle and unstressful as possible. I've never had to put one of my own pets down before; another milestone, I guess.
He was a damn stupid snake. He was scarred and slow and he didn't eat for six months after I adopted him. I nursed him through mites and retained spectacles and attempts to devour his own bedding. He always tried to swallow his food sideways. He peed on me in the middle of a performance.
He went to elementary school classes with me and taught kids not to be afraid of reptiles. He was my scaly ambassador of goodwill to herpephobes everywhere. For a creature with a brain the size of a craisin, I think he still managed to figure out that he liked people.
I miss him already.
