One month.
This is once more how much time I have gained trying to treat a PT.
One month.
But one month is enough time to love and say goodbye, although not enough to let them go with dry eyes...
Chester is gone.
I don't really realize it yet. I cried my eyes out at the vet, of course, eventhough I had been crying him for the past week. I'm currently in denial - actually, I refuse to think about his loss. The hurt will come later. Tonight. When I don't have to medicate nor feed him.
He was drooling on the way to the vet, like he was trying to make it easier for me. He was so quiet, so cuddly... then again, all terminal rats are.
Chester was my love, and I feel robbed. I will get over him, I know, I have 6 other furballs that will require my love and attention, but he will always remain with me. I asked a favor out of him - to wait for me by the Bridge along with Picolo when my time to rejoin them comes. I don't know how many rats I will consider heart rats in my life, but those two really were.
Thank you all for your support. It has helped me much more than you can imagine. If I were able to hold my own for him, it is thanks to you guys, and to BF of course. God knows I would be curled up in a ball, unable to even care for myself right now if he weren't there.
I will write his memorial later. I also have to write Victoria's... Have I said I had a passion hating PT with a passion?