RIP Elizabeth Ferret Browning

I talked a little bit about Lizzie being very ill in the previous post. I'd no sooner hit the "publish" button when I noticed that she seemed agitated. I pulled her out of her cage, sat down in the middle of the kitchen floor and held her in my lap. She settled down a bit, let out a tiny "Yip!"...and she was gone. Just like that.

As I sat there, tears streaming down my face, El came walking up. Now, he normally gets all excited when Lizzie is out of her cage...it means play time...and he'll jump on her, even if she's in my lap. This time, he walked up, sat down, looked at her and put one paw out. I started to push him away, thinking that he was gonna start roughing her up...like he usually does. He slithered around me and put one paw gently on her little head and looked up at me as if he knew. I suppose animals...even knotheads like him...do know.

It just about tore my heart out. I sat there and held her for a long time and El behaved the whole time. It was amazing.

Then the pragmatic side of me kicked in. I suppose being pragmatic is a good thing to be at times like this. But I often fear that it comes across as cold and uncaring. Trust me...that's not the case. I think...uh...hope that the people that know and love me realize that. I've also found that a sense of humor comes in handy at times like these.

Uh. We live in an apartment. We don't have a yard, let alone a shovel. And I DO wanna give the poor little creature a decent burial...she was a wonderful pet for nearly four years. There's no way in hell I'm gonna throw her in the dumpster like an empty milk carton.

So, just what does one do in a case like this?

You do what any pragmatic person would. You wrap her in a clean dish towel, place her gently in a brand-new, soft-sided, insulated lunch bag, zip it tightly...and put it in the freezer.

Well, dammit. It's about 40 degrees out, so I can't put her out on the patio. I don't have a shovel and even if I did, I don't know where to go to bury her. Even if I did have a shovel, it's dark and it's raining.

Right now, I just don't have it in me to go into a lengthy explanation to the nice police officer who just happens to discover me digging a hole in some city park at 8 o'clock on a rainy Friday night.

So for tonight, our beloved Lizzie will lie in state...in the freezer...amongst the frozen broccoli and chicken wings. She'd understand. She looooved cramming herself into tiny nooks and crannies...and boxes (note the photo) and she hated hot weather.

The Zigster and I will give her a proper burial tomorrow.

Somewhere.