Post by Die Fledermaus on Mar 2, 2007 21:06:45 GMT -4
>> A tale of a handicapped gerbil and those who loved him
Published Monday, February 5, 2007 9:38:17 AM Central Time
Their names are Midnight and Morning, and they are brothers. They have been together since I bought them at three weeks of age for my Latchkey kids at school. They had become extremely gentle, and I guess this shouldn't surprise me because they were handled every day by 36 over-anxious kids.
Even their names became a contest with secret ballots and a final tally to see which name would win. One gerbil was black, of course, and the other was a creamy beige. Need I explain more as to which one is "Midnight?"
Never have two gerbils been more loved, and there were always eager helpers to clean the cage and feed them. In fact, I had to keep a watchful eye because they became too well fed. Their favorite food was the sunflower seed and they actually would let the kids hold them and take a sunflower seed from their fingers and eat it.
Vacation time from Latchkey was never a problem because the kids pile up to ask, "Can I take the gerbils home this time Ms. June, please?" What a teaching tool this had become since my answer was always, "Let's see how you're behaving next week and we'll decide then." Of course, I get perfect acting angels the week prior to vacation. Now, I just need more gerbils to give out.
But, back to my story about a handicapped gerbil.
It was summer, and I had just gone home from my shift when the distress call came. The gerbil had been lost and, as they were looking for him, he accidentally got stepped on and is now dragging his foot. What should they do?
Upon arriving back to school, I was greeted by very scared kids and one very sad looking gerbil, Midnight.
After calling the vet, I sat the kids down and explained that I may have to have our gerbil put to sleep if our vet felt there was no hope. Most of the kids wanted to go along and understood that possibility, but I felt that no one should go, so I promised to bring him back for a burial if that was the outcome.
How does one carry an injured gerbil to the vet's office, where there are barking dogs and meowing cats? Why, a five-pound coffee can full of sawdust, of course, and air holes cut in the plastic lid. The kids put some sunflower seeds in the can and a Kleenex was laid in for softness. What else could a gerbil possibly need to make him aware he was so loved by 36 kids?
As I sat in the office waiting, surrounded by dogs and cats of various sizes, I found myself telling people, "This is a gerbil. He's been hurt and needs to see the vet," as if that explains why I would be sitting there with a coffee can and no visible dog on a leash.
I kept going over in my mind how the kids were going to handle a funeral because I was totally convinced this gerbil was doomed!
When I finally got in to see my vet, imagine how surprised I was when he said, "June, this gerbil shows signs of some muscle reflex and, although he has bruised his spinal column, I think he will be fine." He suggested that Midnight stay in the same cage with his brother since they had bonded so well. It would be less traumatic than trying to separate them. And since Midnight had no predator chasing him and food would be provided, he would outlive his natural life just fine!
Well, to say the least, those 36 kids were overjoyed to see that tiny black face appear when they opened the lid. They were not to pick him up for two to three weeks and during that time, due to lack of blood circulation, his little pencil-thin legs shriveled up and fell off!
Again a call to my trusted vet, who assured me that if they were healing over, he would be fine. A vision of a gerbil rigged up with a tiny cart attached to his back end flashed through my head. All sorts of doubts as to quality of life and what was fair to a gerbil raced through my mind.
But, as what usually happens, time proved to work things out. Midnight was soon racing through the mazes and tunnels that the children built for him and his brother, just as he did before he was hurt. He would burrow and chew and tunnel in his cage as before. And, except for occasionally biting if he was squeezed too tight, he behaved like any other gerbil raising 36 kids. In fact, we sometimes forgot he had no back legs and we called him our special needs gerbil that had been mainstreamed back into our regular class. The kids did give him the nickname "Shorty."
But often when it was late and I would be locking up my room for the night, I would glance over at the two brothers curled up in a ball together, and I would think he was just too well loved to have died on us!
-- June Augsburg of Monroe writes pet columns that run in Monday editions of the Times <<
www.themonroetimes.com/c0205aug.htm
Published Monday, February 5, 2007 9:38:17 AM Central Time
Their names are Midnight and Morning, and they are brothers. They have been together since I bought them at three weeks of age for my Latchkey kids at school. They had become extremely gentle, and I guess this shouldn't surprise me because they were handled every day by 36 over-anxious kids.
Even their names became a contest with secret ballots and a final tally to see which name would win. One gerbil was black, of course, and the other was a creamy beige. Need I explain more as to which one is "Midnight?"
Never have two gerbils been more loved, and there were always eager helpers to clean the cage and feed them. In fact, I had to keep a watchful eye because they became too well fed. Their favorite food was the sunflower seed and they actually would let the kids hold them and take a sunflower seed from their fingers and eat it.
Vacation time from Latchkey was never a problem because the kids pile up to ask, "Can I take the gerbils home this time Ms. June, please?" What a teaching tool this had become since my answer was always, "Let's see how you're behaving next week and we'll decide then." Of course, I get perfect acting angels the week prior to vacation. Now, I just need more gerbils to give out.
But, back to my story about a handicapped gerbil.
It was summer, and I had just gone home from my shift when the distress call came. The gerbil had been lost and, as they were looking for him, he accidentally got stepped on and is now dragging his foot. What should they do?
Upon arriving back to school, I was greeted by very scared kids and one very sad looking gerbil, Midnight.
After calling the vet, I sat the kids down and explained that I may have to have our gerbil put to sleep if our vet felt there was no hope. Most of the kids wanted to go along and understood that possibility, but I felt that no one should go, so I promised to bring him back for a burial if that was the outcome.
How does one carry an injured gerbil to the vet's office, where there are barking dogs and meowing cats? Why, a five-pound coffee can full of sawdust, of course, and air holes cut in the plastic lid. The kids put some sunflower seeds in the can and a Kleenex was laid in for softness. What else could a gerbil possibly need to make him aware he was so loved by 36 kids?
As I sat in the office waiting, surrounded by dogs and cats of various sizes, I found myself telling people, "This is a gerbil. He's been hurt and needs to see the vet," as if that explains why I would be sitting there with a coffee can and no visible dog on a leash.
I kept going over in my mind how the kids were going to handle a funeral because I was totally convinced this gerbil was doomed!
When I finally got in to see my vet, imagine how surprised I was when he said, "June, this gerbil shows signs of some muscle reflex and, although he has bruised his spinal column, I think he will be fine." He suggested that Midnight stay in the same cage with his brother since they had bonded so well. It would be less traumatic than trying to separate them. And since Midnight had no predator chasing him and food would be provided, he would outlive his natural life just fine!
Well, to say the least, those 36 kids were overjoyed to see that tiny black face appear when they opened the lid. They were not to pick him up for two to three weeks and during that time, due to lack of blood circulation, his little pencil-thin legs shriveled up and fell off!
Again a call to my trusted vet, who assured me that if they were healing over, he would be fine. A vision of a gerbil rigged up with a tiny cart attached to his back end flashed through my head. All sorts of doubts as to quality of life and what was fair to a gerbil raced through my mind.
But, as what usually happens, time proved to work things out. Midnight was soon racing through the mazes and tunnels that the children built for him and his brother, just as he did before he was hurt. He would burrow and chew and tunnel in his cage as before. And, except for occasionally biting if he was squeezed too tight, he behaved like any other gerbil raising 36 kids. In fact, we sometimes forgot he had no back legs and we called him our special needs gerbil that had been mainstreamed back into our regular class. The kids did give him the nickname "Shorty."
But often when it was late and I would be locking up my room for the night, I would glance over at the two brothers curled up in a ball together, and I would think he was just too well loved to have died on us!
-- June Augsburg of Monroe writes pet columns that run in Monday editions of the Times <<
www.themonroetimes.com/c0205aug.htm
