My Chou... 1998-2012

The week I brought home Chou in 2002

I thought she would live forever.

How could I not think that, when she's been such a spectacle for so many years?  She and I moved out of Acton together.  We went through 3 crazy roommates together.  We traveled across the country (more or less) together.  She saw me through worries, landlords, ex-boyfriends, diagnoses, foreclosures, ... and she cheated death at least twice, to the astonishment of everyone.

House sitting with Chou

And she was so unique.  I was the only person I knew who owned a chinchilla.  I may as well have owned a unicorn, people were so taken by her. She was beautiful.  Her fur was softer than soft.  Her ears defined her expression.  Her whiskers quivered with expectation.  She was the world's best ice breaker and conversation starter.  She complimented them with her sniffs and chirps, happily accepted their offered treats, and made sure they knew that she was the boss of her world.

RAISINS!!

She was going to live forever, see?

Until this weekend, when a stroke, a broken shoulder and a cancer diagnosis left her a shadow of her former self.  Unable to balance, unwilling to eat solid food, but contented to sit on my chest while I watched the news and fed her food through a syringe. 

It was time to let her go.

It took a few weeks, but I trained her to sit on my shoulder.

 Eliza came up for her final trip to the vet, keeping me on course while I peppered her with "this is the right thing, right?" and "look, she's nibbling her hay... she hasn't nibbled in a while..."  I was so grateful she was there.  The nurses and doctor were wonderful.  They brought us into a private room and oo'ed and ah'ed while Chou contentedly sniffed the bed of hay I'd brought her in on.  They explained everything, we took care of the bill so I didn't have to wait, and they explained everything again.  Then I tearfully said goodbye.

Chou talked to people- a long "AAAA!" she used with strangers, but never used with me.  :)

Her passing was swift and painless.  I mentioned I wanted to do a home burial but couldn't get through the ground, and they generously offered to keep her in their freezer until spring.  The nurses transfered her bed of hay into her temporary casket, then brought her back in.  I carefully arranged her ears and tail, and let her go.

Chou made friends wherever she went.

When Eliza and I got back to my house we drank a shot of tequila with cranberries in her honor.  After I realized a shot was larger than I remembered, it was actually really tasty.  We're pretty sure there's an official drink in this somewhere. 

The house is quieter now.  No rustling of pine shavings.  No chattering of teeth.  No squeaking wheel in need of oiling.  No jumping to the front door to greet me when I wake up.  Just a couple cats, enjoying a new window they haven't seen before.

I will miss you always, my sweetheart.