Gerb, 2011 - 2014

There was sadness in the house today: this morning we found that our second and last gerbil, Gerb, had passed away.

Gerb's sister Isabella had preceded her by almost seven months, but while Bella's passing had been a rather sudden affair, we could tell the end was coming for Gerb.  We brought them home from the pet store in late March 2011, so we figure she lived to be three--which is pretty darned old for a gerbil.  Since becoming alone in July, Gerb had taken to preferring to curl up in a ball in a big pile of shavings, her own little nest.  Gerb had never been one for the exercise wheel, but found her own ways to stay busy: since her sister's passing, Gerb managed to gnaw a hole in the back of the plastic gerbil cage.  Fortunately the cage sat within a larger tub, so despite gaining her freedom from the main cage, she was still confined ("Dammit!" I'm sure she exclaimed on getting free, only to find a second tub waiting for her).  Still, you have to admire the stick-to-it-iveness.  She also would consent occasionally to being picked up--moreso than when Bella was alive--and only a few weeks ago had a chance to get out and explore with me again.

Gerb l-o-v-e-d her pumpkin seeds.  We could offer her one through the metal bars of her cage, she would come over, seize it with her teeth, and begin to tug on it; if you held on, she would actually brace herself against the bars of the cage and tug harder.  Silly gerbil, always after her favorite snacks: her favorite season was early November, when the jack-o-lantern seeds were quite fresh.  We've now a bag of seeds with no one to munch them.

You could always get Gerb going with a paper towel tube.  Placed in her cage, it would soon be set upon by those gnawing teeth; sometimes, watching TV, we could hear the sound of her starting to work on a new one and it always brought a smile.

We knew something was wrong Sunday when a fresh paper towel tube got only halfway gnawed, then abandoned.  That had never happened before.  Monday, she was visibly weak: scarcely moving from her nest, and trembling.  She didn't try to run away when we would reach in to pet her softly--another thing without precedent.  But most troubling of all was, she wouldn't touch her pumpkin seeds.  Sarah succeeded in feeding her one, but she only half-nibbled at it, and let it lie.

This morning we learned she hadn't made it through the night, and is now at peace.  Tonight I broke through the frozen ground out back next to her sister.  We found a small box; Sarah, then David, took turns holding her one last time, then we gently laid her in.  Sarah and I put some of her bedding around her, like her nest, and a little strip of her paper towel tube.  David added a couple of her pumpkin seeds, and we closed the box.  David handled the honors out back, tamping down the soil firmly to protect his gerbil.  He confessed he had shed a tear at school that day for thinking of her.  She was a good pet.  As we said with her sister: Rest in peace, little gerbil, and thanks for the memories.

Isabella, 2011 - 2013

Tonight we lost one of our two pet gerbils, Isabella, who had been Sarah's.  We got them at the end of March 2011, hardly as newborns, and knowing that the average gerbil lives to be two to three years old, it's not surprising that we're now facing the loss of our first one.  But that doesn't make it any easier on Sarah tonight.

Isabella was the "fun one," the social one, the one who would run over to the cage bars first to sniff us and see if we brought any pumpkin seeds.  She also, quite frankly, became the plump one, despite being the one more likely to be found on the wheel than her sister Gerb.  We tried to spread the treats around, but somehow Bella seemed to be able to wrangle more than enough food.

Bella was the one who, on being put into her plastic gerbil ball, would run and run and run all over the floor while the kids changed their cages; Gerb would be more content to just wait patiently.  She would try to climb out of the box, or the cage, or wherever, and when we opened the cage door to let them come out and explore, Bella was always the first one to venture out.  She was the first gerbil to trust me enough to come out into my hands and let me pick her up and carry her around.

Sarah loved her gerbil, and is taking it quite hard, blaming herself for not caring for them enough.  With a new dog in the house, it's understandable that the old gerbils would have gotten less attention over the past few months, but they were never truly abandoned.

We found a box that had been the presentation box for a fountain pen, and made a bed of aspen chips for her, and nestled her in there, covering her head with some extra chips.  David dug a nice deep hole out back, next to the azaleas, in the same area as where we buried Fishy Fish some four or five years ago, and laid her to rest.  Jacob Franklin, who was visiting, made an impromptu cross from a twig, and so tonight Isabella sleeps a much longer rest, while Sarah will hardly sleep at all.  Rest in peace, little gerbil, and thanks for the memories.