#tw: death of a pet

[angelofsmalldeaath]

abstract (psychopomp) — a.h.b.

cw: death of a pet (in the past), talks of death, mentions of blood, hurt/comfort-esque

the cat collar is old and frayed against my fingers. the red looks brown now and the bell that once hung at the centre of it…well, it’s gone now. gone forever. still, i thumb the empty spot and close my eyes. 

a distant part of my brain remembers the tiny jingle of the bell—tinkling and melodious. accompanied by little chirpy meows.

“thought i’d find you here,” his voice interrupts my thoughts and i put the collar back in the box. it’s instinct to shut it tight, to slide it away from me. who me? i wasn’t the one stuck in the same memory. not me… i’d never… 

his hair is damp like he just got out the shower, the collar of his t-shirt sporting a wet spot from when he obviously didn’t dry himself properly. i blink quickly and smile up at him. 

“i was looking for old boots.”

“you weren’t. i know what date it is.” 

for a moment i hate the expression of absolute surety on his face. i hate how well he knows me. i hate that his eyes fill up with love and warmth—something that slides over my skin like thick molasses, suffocating me thoroughly. 

“you’re allowed—”

“i know what i’m allowed!” the snap in my voice startles us both. 

his face crumples a little, eyebrows furrowed, a small crease formed right between them. my hands twitch at my sides. i should be walking over to him and smoothing the crease with my thumb. 

instead, i lean against the wall, hoping one of these boxes in storage might swallow me whole. 

i wait for him to say something else—maybe tell me again that i’m allowed to “feel my emotions” or that i’m allowed to cry about it or one of thousand other sweet things he has in his arsenal. 

he blinks and rearranges his face into a smile. “do you know what i remember about that day?”

i give him a wry smile. “blood? there was a lot of it…”

“i remember you. i remember falling in love with you.”

my heart skips a beat. that’s hardly the thing i’d expected him to say. “that’s—”

“not what you were expecting? i know.” for a moment the room goes quiet. the dust motes float in the air—like little flecks of glitter in the sunlight. all i remember about that day is grief. 

all i remember is loss. 

“it was so cold, do you remember? you nose was all red and runny. i teased you about it…”

“mercilessly,” i chuckle. he’s walked closer now, so close that our toes touch and the space between our bodies fills with heat. 

i swallow and look up at him. this closeness has me craning my neck just to properly look into his eyes, and i see it there—the same look he had in his eyes then, a certain kind of shine. the deja vu leaves me breathless. 

“you wouldn’t stop burrowing your hand in my pocket, you refused to leave my hand. i thought my heart would burst into a million tiny pieces.”

“well…that’s not good.”

“it was,” he clicks his tongue, “until it wasn’t. you ran into the traffic right in front of me and i couldn’t do anything but stand and stare and hope my heart won’t explode into a million pieces on the pavement.”

“i didn’t… i didn’t know she’d escape from the window and run out onto the street.” 

for a second i close my eyes and relive the scene in flashes—laughter. shock. a ball of familiar black fur running past us. the screech of tyres. bright lights. blood. so much blood. 

and then his hand on my back…

“let go, baby,” he says, drags his knuckles down my spine and i look at my hands, at all the blood. my white nails stained crimson, the red collar stained brown. 

i blink and come back to the present. 

“i remember thinking you were so brave. you are so brave. i remember being terrified that i’d lose you before i told you i loved you.”

his smile turns sad and my heart splinters. a lot of memories from the day are a blur but i remember his shaky voice. i remember how his hands won’t stop shaking, how he’d bite his lip to stop it from wobbling. 

“do you think about it often? about me running into oncoming traffic.”

“every night, i think.” there’s simple honesty in his voice and i picture him lying there, staring up at the ceiling, replaying that scene in his head. “but i allow myself to feel the fear, then i turn to you and pull you into my chest and everything is perfect again. everything is alright.” 

“ah,” i chuckle—a small sound tinged with sadness. “and that’s what you want me to do. you want me to feel it. and then let you make me forget it.”

“exactly.”

“i should fire my therapist. you’re so much better.”

he laughs and pulls me into a kiss. his beard tickles, but his hold on my waist grounds me. then he pulls the box back towards us and takes the collar out. it’s still darker in some spot, stained with the same blood, a mix of red and maroon now. i take it from him and hold it against my chest. 

“i miss her. she was my baby.” 

“i know you do. i see you,” his thumb swipes on my cheek, brushing some stray hair aside, “sometimes at night you go on pet adoption sites. i see you scrolling.”

“and you never said anything?”

“i figured you’d come to me when you were ready…”

tears tighten my throat and i barely stifle the sob threatening to come out. the collar looks so small in my hands, scrunched up tightly into a little ball. 

“i couldn’t get a new pet just yet. it won’t be fair.”

“but we could look at them, laugh at their silly names? we could stay in bed and watch silly cat compilations on youtube.”

through tears, i laugh. a few fall on my nose and he wipes them away as quick as they appear. 

“that sounds perfect,” i nod. 

and then for the rest of the day, that’s what we do. 

#hozier x reader #andrew hozier byrne #hozier #abstract (psychopomp) #andrew hozier byrne x reader #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writblr #tw: death #tw: death of a pet #Spotify

[thiscrimsonsoul]

{out of paprikash} I'll try to do what I can today with regard to writing, but I don’t have much of a brain for it tonight. I’m a little heartbroken. I lost a very special hammie today to natural causes. He was about 26 months old, and my favorite of all the 20+ hamsters I've owned in my life. His name was Smudgie. For those who are interested, I've attached his story and a short video of him below the cut.

My previous hamster died just before the start of the whole pandemic and widespread shutdowns in the U.S. In mid March 2020, I welcomed Smudgie into my home, a male teddy bear hammie with white fur and soot gray ears like little smudges. I've had numerous hammies all my life since I was around five, I know the drill. Some nipping, squeaking, a little fear... and then a system of pets and food based on a business transaction of cuteness for resources. They put up with me, they get food. I get cuteness. But Smudgie was different. He was the sweetest most personable little guy right from the get-go. As a baby and on the first day home, he was letting me hold him without fear. Within a week, I was in love.

But then one day I went to see him... and everything changed. He was thin, weak, and he had diarrhea. I knew the smell well. Wet tail. It's a vicious and fast-developing bacterial infection, unfortunately common in pet store hamsters that have been kept together and thus exposed to each other's germs. Death occurs within 48 hours in many cases.

Now imagine my shy self... someone with social anxiety so severe that a phone call takes a week and many panic attacks to build up to. I'm home alone and cradling this hamster who's a precious sweetheart in my hand, crying, telling him he's gonna be okay. I call my dad, he doesn't answer. I'm on my own. And that's terrifying. But I'm cradling this tiny life in my hand who's depending on me to protect him and take care of him... and it just cut right through my usual terror, and I picked up my cell phone.

I called every place Google told me was within an hour drive. It was the height of the pandemic by that point. Everything in my state had just shut down a week ago. Most vets were closed until further notice. The ones that weren't? Oh sorry. We only take dogs and cats. Smudgie is lying in my hand, curled up, oh how his tummy must have hurt him, and I'm failing him with every new phone call I make. I'm apologizing, shaking, crying... and then... I get an answer. Finally. A place that treats hamsters that's open 35 minutes away, but.... their next appointment is a week away. I break down on the phone, telling the secretary I'm an experienced hamster owner and a microbiologist. I know he has wet tail. And he'll die within 48 hours if I can't get him help. There's a silence. Okay come on over now and we'll see him.

I get Smudgie into a tupperware container (not an airtight lid of course) and put the address into my gps. Getting lost while driving is a huge phobia of mine. I panic badly if it happens. But he'll die if I don't try, so I hope for the best, and I get him there. I don't remember most of the drive. That's typical of things that trigger my anxiety. But it doesn't matter because I'm here and now he can get the help he needs.

I had to leave him overnight while they ran some tests to determine the type of wet tail he had (there are a number of bacteria that can cause it, each requiring different antibiotics), and if he had any other issues. I drove home and... waited. I couldn't at all sleep that night because at any moment I knew I could get a call saying he'd lost his little fight. At around 9am the next morning, I saw the number for the vet on my phone. I hesitated to answer, but eventually did.

Diagnosis? Bacterial wet tail, three species of pathogenic bacteria. And dehydration. Not surprising given all the diarrhea. And he had a few parasite eggs in his stool. Like... tapeworms. The vet explained this to me and then paused before he said the treatment course. Shots of ivermectin two weeks apart. Antibiotics twice daily. Therapeutic liquid food three times daily. They do the first week and then I take him home, doing the feedings and the antibiotics, only bringing him back for ivermectin shots. I had a little scale at home, I could chart his weight. No guarantees, hamsters are so small and fragile, but... he has a chance.

The vet paused here. There was a long silence. With the cost of the meds, them keeping him for two weeks, and follow-up visits, it was going to cost around $2K. Another long pause. Do you... want to go ahead with this? I could hear the emotion in his voice. He was expecting me to say no. And as a doctor who wanted to help, that killed him, I could tell. But I said yes. Let's do it. I said listen, I've owned a lot of hamsters, and within one week of ownership, I've fallen in love with this little guy. He's special. And I wanna do everything I can for him. Now... I am not made of money. I lost my research job because of the pandemic. Online teaching pays shit. I'd have to seriously scrape to afford this. But Smudgie was depending on me, and I was not about to let him down.

The vet was... shocked. He said....... oh! Okay! Great! I could feel his happiness over the phone. He said that most people didn't consider hamsters worth saving, so most of the time, they were forced to just let them die, and that was heartbreaking for them. Not only that, but he said they have a lot of techs and vets in training that rarely get to treat and care for animals like hamsters because the owners just aren't willing to pay the cost. I said well... I'm willing. I love this little guy. Do what you can for him. The vet was... ecstatic. He thanked me. It was such a warm phone call.

Over the next several days, he kept me updated on Smudgie's condition. At one point, he managed my expectations. Smudgie wasn't looking good. But then... a turnaround! He was more alert. He was gaining weight. It seemed he was turning a corner here. Finally, I had an appointment to pick him up, and I got to meet the guy I'd been talking to on the phone and the woman vet who'd been assisting him with this case. Smudgie had been a teaching opportunity for many techs at the practice, and frankly, an inspiration. This little guy had a harrowing, painful illness, shots, people grabbing him, people shoving syringes into his mouth with gritty health food... but he was THE SWEETEST. They told me that the medical technicians were fighting over who got to feed him because he was that precious. Everyone wanted to hold and pet Smudgie. He was the darling of their practice, and everyone was rooting for him. When I walked in to pick him up, everyone smiled. I was engulfed in affection and well-wishes. Everyone loved Smudgie.

Then he came home with me and I was terrified. I'm a microbiologist, but environmental, not clinical. Not human or animal... but bacterial, fungal, I understand how bacteria grow in soil, water, sediment, that's my forte. But medical stuff.........total black box. I didn't want to fail Smudgie. So I worked hard. I set alarms. I did all the feedings and medications around the clock for three weeks. I didn't let him give me shit (he gave me a lot of it). I weighed him every day. I pushed past my own anxiety and fears to help this hammie I cared so much about and that had touched me and so many others.

Weeks of syringe feedings and vet visits followed. He gained weight. Everything looked great. It was time for his last follow-up visit. The vet thanked me for being willing to go the distance for such a tiny life, and I wholeheartedly thanked him for saving my hamster. I got to meet several people who had a hand in treating Smudgie. They even took a picture of him for their billboard of memorable pets. It was... one of the most feel-good situations I've ever experienced in my life.

Smudgie lived for over two years past this point, past when most pet stores and pet owners would have let him die. He was a fat, happy, pampered little mush, who loved to run on his wheel, loved cashews, and often loafed himself before his food bowl, content in his happy home. We had a routine, he and I. I would call his name sweetly to get his attention, he would come out of his plastic house, towards the end he had arthritic hips (I feel you buddy, I've had rheumatoid arthritis since I was two) and I had to help him onto it. Once on his house, I would, as I called it, give him "the full-body rub-down." I rub his ears, his neck, his shoulders, his hips, his sides, etc. Most hamsters, when you start touching them, duck away like yeah okay, enough, screw off. Smudgie always liked it. He wanted the rub-down. And then he knew he got his bowl filled with seeds, nuts, and other treats like veggies, dried fruits, fortune cookies, etc. to supplement his health biscuits. So he'd drop off his house and wait by his bowl, front paws on the rim, waiting for me to drop the goods. I'd give him a mix of sunflower seeds, various biscuits, and his favorite... dried cranberries. This went on for two years. I’d tell him, "Mommy loves you," and "You're such a good little boy," and give him all the pats and loves and treats.

If any hamster ever had cause to be the biggest, nastiest, feistiest jerk on earth, it was this guy. He'd really been through it from a young age. He'd gotten so many shots, been handled by so many unfamiliar humans, gotten syringes of liquid food sludge thrust in his face, and endured so many terrifying, jostling car rides inside a tupperware container, that if any hammie was going to be like HUMANS FREAKING SUCK, I would've expected it to be him. But nope. He liked to be around humans. He liked to be pet. He sought it out. First hammie ever of mine that felt that way. He was a true treasure. A sweet, positive, beautiful little guy.

Last night... I noticed a change. He was weak, lethargic, breathing very hard. The telltale signs of age-related heart failure in hammies. He was 2.5 years old, so... not unexpected. Most pet-store-bought male hammies live an average of 18 months. My hammies typically live longer. Smudgie was 26 months. Usually once I see them start to labor with breathing, it's 1-2 weeks until they die. The decline is excruciating. Sad. Painful. But I followed the routine. "Hey, Smudgie! Hi!" He tried to climb onto his house but was too weak. So I lifted him up onto it. "It's okay, I have arthritis too," I told him. Then I gave him the best massage to date. Ears, shoulders, hips, pudgy midsection... I figured, he's not feeling well, I should let him rest. But he goes to his food bowl and looks up at me expectantly, even as he's having trouble breathing, eyes half-lidded. I give him seeds and nuts but he noses around and still looks at me. He wants a dried cranberry. I had been giving him those for awhile now and he adored them. So I get one, and it doesn't even make it into his bowl, because he's making grabby-hands at it even before I can lower it down fully. He takes it, loafs himself in a round ball of hammie floof (he was a long-haired hammie, extremely floofy), and gorges. I smile, say, "Enjoy, baby boy. Mommy loves you. You enjoy yourself," and then I went to bed.

And this morning... he was peacefully gone, just laying down, as if asleep. No pain, no stress. Best little guy ever. 15/10, would be his momma again. But it hurts. A lot. Although... there's really nothing bad here. Smudgie had a long, happy, spoiled, pudgy life, one he likely wouldn't have had, had he ended up anywhere else. But this is always the worst part of pet ownership... the end.

I'm not in a hurry to get another hamster. Usually I run right out after one dies, eager to fill the void, but this time... no. I need some time. I need to reflect on this tiny life that had such an impact on mine. I'm not ready yet. There's no rush.

The video below was taken about three months ago. It's Smudgie half awake in his holding bin after I woke him up to clean his cage. I hope you enjoy.

#{ out of paprikash } ᵒᵒᶜ #tw: death of a pet #tw: medical treatments

[drunkenhills]

My coworker just told me that she didn't like cats and was afraid of them. Which is whatever, until she asked me what the deal was with cats having 9 lives. I said it was a common myth, but I didn't know where it came from. She asked me what I meant by "a myth". When I clarified, she paused, then admitted to me that she thought it was real. That cats would die and come back.

A bit shocked, I assured her that I'd never heard of a cat coming back to life. They're crafty and resilient, but they die normally. I'm sure some people believe in it, which is fine, but as far as I'm aware there is no scientific basis for this myth. I myself had a cat who died, and he stayed dead, promise.

She was shocked.

She also wanted to know how my cat died, and I told her tumor. Cats have tumors? Well yeah, they're mammals, they have lungs and ribs and brains and stomachs. They get stuff we get like cancers. My cat had arthritis the last year of his life. Also a surprise.

We had stuff to do, so we decided to continue this conversation another time, but she did add that in her culture, many people think cats are evil. It didn't seem to me that the 9 lives myth was part of her belief system though, since she didn't understand it and asked me, a cat person, for information. So I don't know what to make of it. I can't quite wrap my head around the fact that this educated 22 year-old woman living in Paris thinks cats actually come back to life. That's wild to me...

#tw: pet loss #tw: death of a pet #cats #my posts

[laf-outloud]

Hi! Who is your adorable userpic? 💙

Hi! How sweet of you to ask! That is Miss "eye" gone. My parent's dog had a litter of puppies and she was born without an eye. Unfortunately, a couple of months after being adopted, she ran into the road and didn't make it, so I use her picture as a memorial.

#personal #tw: death of a pet #just in case #ask box

[floweroflaurelin]

Rest in peace, Jellie. I’m glad she’ll live on in every minecraft world ❤️

2006-2024

#goodtimeswithscar #jellie cat #jellie the cat #gtws #gtwscar #tw pet death #tw animal death #floweroflaurelin art

[anauwu420]

TW: grief, death, death of a pet, death of a cat, FIV

Oh man the grief hit and it hit fucking hard dudes.

A couple weeks ago I had to put my lil shadow cat to sleep. His fiv was attacking his blood, and he wasn’t gonna make it through the night.

And I just got an email from the company for his microchip saying “Don’t lose Waluigi during the holidays! Here are tips to keep your pet alive and safe during the holiday season” and now I’m sobbing at work over an email that cluelessly is about not losing my now dead cat.

Anyways give your lil babies an extra kiss and a hug for me. My arms are feeling a little too empty rn.

#mine #my thoughts #tw: death #tw: death of a pet #tw: death of a cat #loss #grief

[nezhanetwork]

it's only a matter of time... ♥

#i know she will find her way back to him #goodtimeswithscar #jellie #jellie the cat #hermitcraft #my art #tw pet death #tw animal death

[martuzzio]

Legends never die, and as such, Jellie will continue to live on in Minecraft and within our hearts until the end of time. It was a pleasure to draw you, Jellie. Have fun playing in the stars.

#hermitcraft #my art #jellie #pet death tw #tw pet death #tw pet loss #pet loss tw #tw grief #grief tw #Let me know if I should add any other TWs

[jeysbvck]

my heart hurts 💔

little teddy bear, you were only here for a short time, but you filled our lives with joy. my crazy lil ball of floof, you'll be missed❤️❤️

#shan shouts into the void #tw: death of a pet #😭😭😭

[cattimeswithjellie]

Rest in peace Jellie, sweetest and grumpiest of cats, namer of this blog, and a little bit of joy in all our lives. Seventeen years is a long life for a cat, but no span of years is ever long enough for a friend. I know the hearts of everybody in the fandom is with Scar and his family today, and we will remember her in every Minecraft world where she lives on.

#jellie #goodtimeswithscar #hermitcraft #sad post #she was the most loved cat in all of minecraft #sweetest and grumpiest kitty #tw pet death

[spiderziege]

her world

#rest easy Queen Jellie <3 #may you always live on in every minecraft world and in this community #tw pet death #jellie the cat #goodtimeswithscar #hermitcraft #my art

[pintsofguinnesmakeyoustrong]

pet cemetery in yorkshire. it was the biggest stone in the lot 🐁

#graveyard #pet cemetery #cemetery #cemetery photography #photography #mouse #mice #mouseposting #mouseblr #pet mouse #gothic #gothic photography #grunge #soft grunge #grunge photography #urban photography #animals #tw animal death #animal death #rodent #this is so sweet

[todayontumblr]

Friday, January 5.

Farewell little friend. (tw: pet death)

This is a tough one, y'all. We are deeply saddened at the news that Jellie, the most beloved and beautiful cat of @GoodTimesWithScar, has passed away, aged 17-and-a-half years. But we are also gladdened to see the community band together in support of Scar—and pay poignant tribute to this sweetest little pal. 

Hugs to Scar, and to all y'all, too.

@crunchesloudly

#today on tumblr #jellie #jellie the cat #jellie cat #goodtimeswithscar #jellie goodtimes #scar #gtwscar #hermitcraft #hermitblr #hermitcraft fanart #scarland #scarland artbook #tw pet death #tw pet loss #tw animal death #tw grief

[memingursa]

Human pet guy has thoughts on this with…. examples.

#human pet guy #missing submarine #submarine #tw death #probably #cybersmith #hms terror #titanic

[william-arts]

You will never be forgotten Jellie

#you were amazing #jellie the cat #william-arts #tw pet death #jellie #goodtimeswithscar

[limitedlifemap]

The Limited Life MAP is OUT NOW!! go give it a watch and thank you to all of our participants and supporters, we couldn't have done this without you o7

(We did not anticipate the release of this project to be at such an unfortunate time, and take this chance to send our regards to Scar and his family as well. May Jellie rest well <3)

#martyn inthelittlewood #itlwart #limited life #limited life smp #limited life fanart #trafficblr #life series #life smp #limlife #limlife fanart #updates #tw pet death