Missing you already

Just after I wrote yesterday's blog entry, we took little Cas the rat to his appointment with the vet. He was very subdued and his little eyes, which are usually like two shiny black currents, were glazed over and sad-looking. 

The vet diagnosed kidney failure and told us it was time to let him go, so the little tyke was carried out of the room in his cage, and returned to us, still warm, and looking terribly handsome, but no longer with us. 

It's something that sits so uncomfortably with me: the idea that we as humans get to choose whether an animal lives or dies. It's basically the reason why I'm vegetarian.  Was Cas ready to go? Who gave us the right to make that decision on his behalf? 

Any way, we carried him home, and made him a little bed out of the box which had been his shelter ever since his brother, Pol had died. Usually rats will chew anything made of cardboard into pieces within weeks, and we always thought it was rather lovely that he seemed to be hanging on to the one thing that still smelt of his brother.  

We wrapped the box in a little blanket and took it to Highgate Woods to the spot where Pol was buried, under a tree covered in green lichen. 

We lit a candle and Nathan played the In Paradisum from the London Requiem. The words were astonishingly apt; "always in our hearts little man." And as the last lines struck up, "you weathered the storm, reached harbour safely", an enormous gust of wind rattled through the woods getting more and more powerful, and then disappearing with the last chord. It felt like the little chap was passing by somehow. Like the wind had come to collect him. I imagined Pol coming to collect his brother, saying "you took your time" and the two of them dancing off into the wind to share a new adventure.

Of course, as we walked away, leaving the candle to keep Cas company, we realised we'd buried him under a different tree to his brother. It didn't matter. The wind had carried his soul away. 

It's astonishing how much impact one tiny fella can have on a life, but I guess he was with us for 2 1/2 years, which is a long time by anyone's standard. Cas, mate, you did brilliantly well. Thank you for joining us on our journey.