Geronimo--Final Respects

Last night when I prepared to feed Geronimo, I found him lying on his side, dead. I had noticed that he seemed thin the last while, even though he seemed to be eating like usual.

I have no eulogy to deliver. Earlier columns detail some of the ways in which Geronimo the gerbil has entertained us, endured our food supplements experimentations, and generally provided a lively constant presence for the past three or four years. In gerbil years he was very old, and when I got him, the pet shop lady who gave him to me said that he was already old then and likely would not live more than a year longer. So we've had a good stretch of borrowed time.

The worst part of Geronimo's death is seeing to the details of giving him a decent burial. After the deluge we've had during the last 36 hours, everything is so soggy that even getting to an out of the way spot on foot is a daunting prospect.

Maybe that is what people feel also who are close to a person who dies. The most immediately distasteful part of death is dealing with the body. I really don't think that I'm prepared at this point to be philosophical about this. I trust God to provide the needed grace at any point in the future when I must make earthy decisions after someone close to me dies.

For now, for a little longer I can push that unpleasantness into the future, except for finding a tiny box, which I will line with tissue paper--and then a shovel, perhaps a plant marker stake, and the right spot--and my last duty to our pet will be accomplished.