RIP Rufus

The fire is low tonight, I'm not feeling up to warmth or light. I need some somber atmosphere because it hasn't been a pleasant night. I still want you to come sit down though, I need the company. It may seem small at first, but perhaps we can all understand these things a bit more.

Our hamster died tonight. His name was Rufus and he was an incredible little beastie. One of the few I've ever known to come when called, to escape but not to leave but to be close to the person who he connected with the most, that being my eldest daughter Little Bear. He was incredibly resourceful when it came to escape, and that same incredible nature had an effect on our cat Xuxa (That's pronounced SHOOshA), cuz even I saw that little critter sit next to the cat without a care in the world while the cat seemed just as happy to hang out with something she generally killed. He was so comfortable with our family that one morning Little Bear placed Rufus on my chest, and he looked around, sniffed, then curled up and went to sleep. Truly unique.

My poor Little Bear was hysterical and it's hard to see that as a dad. On the flip side of that I know there is no way I can keep the big bad world from intruding on the perceived safety of our home. It's like that old joke, Life: Nobody gets out of here Alive. As such I got to help Little Bear deal with some of her first close loss. It's a tough bit of reality and I'll help the Baby Bird understand it better tomorrow, but right now, right this instant, I'm gonna tell you all what I told Little Bear.

First, there was the disposal. I don't go in for the ceremony of funerals. Me personally, I'll be having my disease riddled body shipped off to the U of S to be hacked apart by folks who wanna learn how to cure people. So I let Little Bear carry the cage with corpse outside to the garbage to get it out of the house. She was still crying in great heaves and sobs, and the Baby Bird was hiccuping along in response to the cries of her big sister. Once Rufus was disposed of, I called a stop to the wailing and asked the girls to listen. This is what I said:

'The loss involved with death is a lot, and it hurts, but I don't feel that is what should be focused on. Instead celebrate the joy of what Rufus brought to your life. The special memories of how great a pet he was, and how because of your care for him he was more than just a little thing in a cage, he was your little guy, your baby. I understand the loss. Hurting isn't bad, but celebrate the life, don't bemoan your own loss.'

Little Bear seemed to take this in stride, and she coughed out a few last tears, and said to me 'I'll try.' And she burst into all the memories she had. She told story after story once we got back into the house, and it helped her regain her own composure and she calmed. There were still tears, don't mistake that, but she thought about how special that little critter was to her and held close to his memory.

I held her for a while, and we talked. She asked me if he'd be in Heaven. I'm an honest guy, so I had to explain the dogma. Most Christian sects don't equate souls to animals. I then explained my own view, that we each receive what we deserve, our own Happy Hunting Ground. For Rufus, I see a big house, with rooms filled with Little Bear and her love and food. No cages, just lots of room for him to explore yet always come back to the thing he was most comfortable with, the crook of Little Bear's arm, or huddled beneath her knee with a piece of apple.

I then explained how I saw immortality. We as living things will all die. Our shells will waste away, all those things we bought, those things we made of stuff, all that will turn to dust and wash away into the stream of time. But those who loved us, and who we love, then will remember us. And in that, we will be immortal.

She then said 'You've dealt with a lot of loss huh dad?' I had to nod, and I thought back to all the people who I've loved yet lost. My father committed suicide when I was just 6. From there I've watched family members succumb to many things, mostly cancer. An Aunt passed while I was a teen, her daughter, my cousin just recently. All these people shaped me, and I carry them with me, I talk to them and let them know I still will love them despite their lack of a physical presence. My grandfather whom I've introduced to you all. These things hurt and ache yet I cherish them and the parts of me that will always wish for them to see the things I still see.

I couldn't really respond to her on this, I just held her. I gave my Little Bear what little comfort I could from my own actions, and I just loved her. Then we played Rock Band.

I write these things through crying eyes, knowing my daughter has lost yet another piece of the innocence of youth. I cry for the loss that we will all suffer, and I know each of you out there will feel the same things, yet I won't tell you how to think or feel. We will all feel it and it's a universal experience. All I can do is assure you that those I love, I will always continue to love, and those that love me, I can only hope for the same.

I also cry because I'm gonna miss that little guy, he may have only been a bit of fluff and maybe he peed on me a few times, but he was special to my daughters and special to me. Bye Rufus, enjoy the apples.