Goodbye, My Pet
I loathed our first meeting. You’re shivering in that tiny birdcage, claws cutting into the grilled cage floor and smelling of pet shop. A warm bath and some chow later, you snuggled on my palm, rubbed your head against my shirt and blinked sleepily.
I thought you were too skinny. But still the cutest damn thing I’ve ever seen since my ex-squirrel.
When you walked towards me after I called your name, at that moment I felt like a proud parent. And you were such a petulant child, giving puppy eyes and sulking whenever I shampooed you.
It pained me to squeeze pus out of your ear 3 times a day when your had cheek pouch infection. But you, being the brave little warrior, didn’t flinch or bite. Or maybe you knew that I’d be giving you that strawberry flavored medicine afterwards, you little runt.
You’d make purring noises when I rubbed your furry white belly and grabbed my fingers with your sharp little claws. I remembered my sister woke the household with her happy yelps after watching you stretch and yawn for the very first time.
My heart sunk when I found out what that wheezing noises you made for the past week meant. On your last night, I couldn’t sleep and decided to keep you entertained till morning. You still snuggled on my palm, attacked my shirt and chased after treats, despite the loud respiratory noises.
I came back from work in the evening, only to find out from my family that you have passed on in the afternoon, and been buried in the park downstairs. It’s been fun having you around, sweetie. I hope you’re in a better place.



























