Adventures of a Non-Binary Author – What’s Wrong with Zelly?
As we make our way home from the new cottage, I let my partner know Zelly has been quiet today. I’m not sure if she’s just hiding from all the noise from downstairs, or if she’s sick. So we get in knowing we’ll have to monitor her. She remains quiet. Still in the same little hidey-hole she was in before. Still breathing, so that’s something.
I make sure she has access to food, and defrost some peas. It was a trick I used when one of my previous gerbils, Mew, was sick. An easy way of getting fluids too them, when they’re not moving about much. Things don’t look great, so I spend the night in the living room with her. She gets up for a drink almost as soon as the lights are out. It’s hard to tell exactly how she’s doing. But she does give my hand a little sniff before going back to her hiding spot.
Saturday it’s more of the same. Still in that spot. Still accepting food when offered. Alive when we go out for lunch with my dad and step-mum. Still alive when we get back. We try not to fuss her too much. If this is how she’s choosing to spend her final days, we want to reduce stress. I’ll occasional put my hand as close to her as I can. She at least needs to know she’s not alone. She’ll sniff it. Place her front paws on it. Or bite it gently, depending on her mood. We still keep food going down towards her. If she’s eating, it’s not a stomach issue. There are no odd sounds either, so it’s not a breathing issue. So that leaves old age, seizures, and a stroke. Well she is almost four, which means her old age puts her at higher risk of the other two. But with her not moving around much, it’s hard to tell exactly what the cause is.
Sunday, it’s more of the same. She’s still alive. Accepting food. But not really moving about. I have work, so I can’t keep an eye on her myself. But my partner is more than willing to keep her company for the day. More than once during my shift, I find myself welling up a little. Less than three days ago she was so vibrant and alive. But all old animals can go into sudden and rapid decline.
When I get home, my partner and I have a quality of life talk. Since she is still accepting food, I’m fairly sure it’s age and not illness. It was the same with her sister last year. Rye showed no obvious signs of sickness. She just looked old, slept more, and moved slower. But she was still moving. She was still playing. She was still interacting with us and her sister. Even on her final day. The day before we decided to put her to sleep. The decision to do so was so hard because of how much she clearly wanted to still be with us. We didn’t want it dragging on forever though. That wouldn’t have been fair on her or us. And, the way she looked that final morning, I’ve no doubts it was the right decision we made. A decision made after watching her slow decline over a couple of weeks.
But Zelly’s situation is different. Quality of life is the most important thing to consider with aging pets. And, if things continue as they are, she doesn’t have that. The only thing she has going for her is the fact she’s still eating. Although not enough on it’s own, it does make it hard to completely write her off. So we make the decision to give her a few more days. If she declines further, we’ll make the call. If she remains as she is, then we’ll know for sure her quality of life has gone. Just surviving is not enough. So we agree upon Friday as our time frame. Mostly so we can both be there if we need to say goodbye.
Monday. The day of my birthday. Zelly is once again still with us. She doesn’t appear any worse than she has been. All I can really do is keep an eye on her. Whilst I’m in at least. I leave her only to get my haircut. When I get back, I’m amazed to see her being a little more active. I try not to get my hopes up. She’s definitely looking like an old gerbil. And, as with every time we’ve seen her moving about recently, she’s not exactly stable on her feet. But she does choose to go into one of her tunnels. She’s not been under the sawdust in days. Always sleeping on top, in her quiet little corner. It’s been great for letting us monitor her, but far from normal behaviour.
Still, there’s a little bit of hope now. Even if she’s only doing a little bit of activity here and there, it’s still quality of life. We just need to keep an eye on it. Small animals can and will decline suddenly. She is far from out of the woods yet. Still, it makes me look into other reasons for her recent behaviour. Most things would need a vet for firm diagnosis, but I start to suspect she might have had a stroke. Us making sure she was fed and hydrated gave her the best chance at recovery. But, even if she does survive, she may not get out of it completely unscathed.
Tuesday morning. I go in, and, almost as soon as I check the enclosure, Zelly’s head pops up. She looks like a whole different gerbil to the one teetering around yesterday. Her movements are still a little unsteady. It’s clear she’s tiring easily. But her eyes are fully open, and her fur looks a lot more sleek. As the day goes on, she improves further. And, when she chooses to come out and play, you’d almost think nothing had ever been wrong with her.
My partner often calls her the immortal gerbil, because of how well she’s done the past year. I doubt she’ll go on forever. And this experience will almost definitely have shortened her life. But, as I watch her play, I laugh and tell her she really is the immortal gerbil. Our little miracle of good news.
But is this the only good news we’re allowed this week? Or will the sellers accept our offer? Will we be starting in earnest down the path towards our future home? There’s no ignoring the question has been on our mind. In the background of our concerns over Zelly, neither of us can wait to find out.
To be continued…
