Last night, Gordon ate a giant leaf of cabbage and 2 pieces of orange. He sat on my shoulder while we watched "My Name is Earl" on the DVR. Later on, Jess went to see him at 11pm before bed, and I went to bed after midnight totally worried about him. So this morning, I went down to check on Gordon first thing.
I approached the cage and called out to him. He didn't raise his head. I opened the cage, calling to him... stroked him. He didn't move.
Crap. Are you kidding me? All this effort and he dies THIS quickly? I lifted him up gently because he'd nosed himself into the corner and I turned him around. He didn't move or try to struggle or express that he wanted food or anything.
Late for church in the first place, I gently stroked him, closed the cage and went upstairs. I told Jess, I told Doug. I got in the shower and cried. We decided not to tell Geoff until after we got back home from church. Doug and I discussed where the safest place to bury him would be.
I sat and wrote a little journal entry, thinking that so many of you have cared a lot about what is happening with him. I sat here and cried a little and watched this little video from 2006 of Geoff and Gordon.
We left for church... I didn't go near the cage again because I didn't want Geoff to see me and ask to see him or hold him before we left. We just left.
And then, we came home, told Geoff, let him have his cry and talk about how horrible this was and he wanted to kill himself. We talked him out of that because there are three other pets and don't be silly.
I asked him to come help me build the box.
We had his football cleats shoe box, which I've been using to shuttle Gordon to the vet. Inside the box I placed my favorite flannel pillowcase, the only piece left from a set Doug and I received as a wedding gift, and my favorite thing to have next to my skin in the cold winter.
I reached into the cage, and he wiggled into my hand and peeped.
I nearly plotzed myself.
"Hey!" I yelled to Doug in the kitchen, "He's not dead!"
"It's a Christmas Miracle!" yelled Doug. "Or, he's a zombie!"
So we had a good laugh and held him and passed him around. Doug asked me what I was thinking this morning and I said "Um, you TOTALLY would have thought the same thing too if you'd found him the way I did. Shut up."
I guess it is a good thing no one relies on my abilities to determine whether or not someone was dead, and that I'm not the state medical examiner.
Our mourning has turned to dancing. Everyone is downstairs feeding him and holding him and rejoicing.
I hope that this isn't a temporary respite and that he's going to be alright... Whew. Scary!
Speaking of Zombies, I'm heading to Salem MA today to watch a zombie march. Perhaps I should bring Gordon. My little Lazarus Pig.
My life, wtf sometimes. Honestly.