On May 22nd, my life came crashing down. My wonderful, vibrant, mischievous boy, Darwin was rushed to the emergency vets.
Almost three weeks to the day, on June 10th, I had to let him go. Although initial response to the treatment for the clot was positive, his appetite didn’t reappear.
Little Man got weaker, but tried for a time. He got too tired.
Letting him go was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever had to make in my life. Wondering if he’ll have known the reason I was letting go was BECAUSE I loved him and could see his quality of life wasn’t improving is tearing me apart. He wasn’t just a pet, he was my family.
He helped lift a veil of grief I never thought would go, and made me laugh every day for the six years he was with my right up until the trauma to his body. Even then, he gave me the odd time where glimpses of his cheeky self shone through.
But he wasn’t eating enough to recover from the devastation caused to his tiny, wonderful being, and he was wasting away. The spark was paling, and I knew it.
My heart will always be missing a piece now; because Darwin was a part of it. The cheeky little man who bounded into the kitchen and leapt on my shoulder while I admonished him because it was dangerous while I was holding a kettle of boiling water; the scamp who actually came into the house and shouted a noise remarkably like “hiya” at me then waited for the same noise in response, the bundle of trouble who insisted that a bed nest was made between my knees when I got into bed so he could sleep there; all part of my heart.
I tell people I knew Darwin was meant to come and live with me the moment I saw his picture on here; I stand by that. That boy was meant to be a part of my family, and I will never, for a second regret the connection I felt. Even if it feels like my soul is being torn apart right now. Because he really, truly was my sunshine. Loving without boundary always comes with the possibility that pain may be a part of the deal.
All I hope, wish, more than anything is that Darwin knew just how loved he was, and still is. How he taught me so much and how I feel privileged to have shared his short, wonderful life with him. And how much I’ll miss him. There are no words that can describe that; just how much I’ll truly miss that massive personality in a tiny ginger and white package.
Keep looking at the stars, Wee Free Man. I hope you have fun in the long grasses. And I can promise you, I will love you always.
