Just as Lucky to Die

So on Sunday I dropped Sid off at my boyfriend's house while I went to work from 11 to 2. At about 3, I went back to see him. It was pretty obvious that his condition was sliding downhill...and quickly.

We spent the day together, he and I, and he slept on my lap. He ate a little baby food, licked a few drops of juice off my fingertip, and even nibbled on one of the pancakes I made for dinner.

Joe came over that evening, and Sid began to have trouble breathing. He draped his body over Joe's leg and positioned his head on Joe's hand. He rearranged himself periodically, but kept his head at a 45 degree angle. He began to make a funny clicking sound with his teeth, and he opened his mouth wide, an odd thing to see a rat do.

When the rattles began, I started crying. Twenty minutes passed, and Sid rattled and trembled. We didn't know how long it would be, and I picked up a leatherbound copy of Leaves of Grass, turned to Song of Myself, and began to read aloud. I kept one palm on Joe's leg, tucked against Sid's belly. After 40 pages, I put down the book. Sid breathed a little more normally now, and he crawled down from Joe. I sensed what he wanted, and pulled a blanket around my knees and fashioned a little cave of fleece. He crawled inside and hid.

Only a few minutes passed, and suddenly the blanket jerked. I saw a flurry of motion under there, and I whipped the blanket away. Sid struggled to my leg, pulling himself into my lap. Wide-eyed and clearly panicked, he jerked and twitched and kicked his little legs, desperately drawing empty breaths. He shuddered one final time, and the little lump of fur relaxed and lay flat against my lap.