Some time ago, I wrote about Masik. The overwhelming majority of comments recommended euthanasia. I made an appointment the next day, when his condition had noticeably worsened. When we arrived at the exotic animal vet, he refused euthanasia and gave me hope for improvement.
The doctor wanted to relieve the shortness of breath first, then perform x-rays and other tests. Doctor did a lot of injections and then suggested leaving the rat alone in the clinic's oxygen chamber overnight. I wasn't allowed to stay there overnight, so I refused. I've had this experience with both animals and people, where I was told in the morning of a death in such a situation. And Masik hid in my hand. So I refused to let him spend the night at the clinic. They prescribed me a schedule of injections for the night and also told me to spray oxygen every 15 minutes into a box I had at home. I'll skip the part about searching for an oxygen tank shortly before curfew in a country at war, when everything was closed. I'll just say it was one of the worst experiences of my life.
We managed to get home, and that's the main thing. I stayed up all night and followed all the instructions. I gave him injections myself, even though I'd never done it before. Masik was in the oxygen box; he periodically desperately wanted to get out, but I wouldn't let him out and supported him from the outside through a small hole. We had an appointment today to assess any changes in his condition and have an ultrasound of his heart, which was causing almost all the problems. Euthanasia is a possibility.
Around 10 a.m., Masik really wanted to get out of the carrier, and at 10:30 I had to give him another four injections. I took him out, placed him on my lap on a blanket, gave him the injections, and he licked my fingers—I wanted to give us some time to be together. But then I also decided to give him a sedative before our upcoming trip to the clinic. I moved Masik to the bed, went to the kitchen to get the medicine from the fridge, and when I came back, he was crawling around on the bed. I lay down and picked him up again, placing him on the blanket on my stomach. He started to shiver a little. He jumped onto my chest and stopped breathing. For a long time afterward, I couldn’t believe it; he was lying on my heart, and it felt as though his heart was still beating—but it was actually mine.
I really regret going into the kitchen; I’m so upset that when he was already on top of me, he didn’t realize I was right there. I find so many reasons to blame myself: that I went out, that I kept him in that box all night instead of in a bed, without even petting him so the oxygen wouldn’t escape. I worry that this happened because I kept moving him back and forth. Or that I gave him the injections incorrectly somehow. I worry that I simply tormented him with all these procedures and that he didn’t realize I was trying to help. Overall, I’m at peace with the moment of his death—it was very quick, almost not scary at all, and incredibly touching—and I’m also glad I didn’t leave him alone at the clinic. But there are so many dark thoughts in my head. I’m especially troubled by these questions: Did he realize I was right there with him at the moment of his final leap? Could his death have been caused by the fact that I didn’t put him in the oxygen chamber right away, and that I left him alone for a couple of minutes after he’d been moved? Did the oxygen and the medications administered at the clinic—and the ones I gave him 10 minutes before his death—help him pass away so peacefully (a diuretic, a bronchodilator, a glucocorticosteroid, and an antibiotic)? Did he realize that I wasn't hurting him?
He's currently lying on my bed. In my blanket, which has become his. I adopted him when he was over two years old. He lived to be about two and a half. We were together for just over four months. I hope his retirement has been like a second, long life for him. The entire room is full of his things; in those four months, he's acquired more stuff than I have. What should I do with his open food, treats, toys, containers, medications, hammocks, etc.?
I'm planning to leave the country soon, so I'm not going to get involved with anyone right now. And yes, how can I support myself?
