I thought my first post back from the honeymoon would be about happy times, and fun times, but sadly it is not to be… I’ll save it for another post. We came home around 1 am on Tuesday to find Sir Chewy barely moving at all, at first we thought he had passed. We rushed him to the emergency vet that takes in small exotics and left him overnight. The prognosis, at first, was good and we just thought he had a broken leg or maybe had pined for us being gone so long and stopped eating. However, by 4 pm the vet was telling us it was probably a neuro problem, which can be caused by anything from bacteria and virus to I guess a chin stroke to… anything. We got there around 5 to see him and he was almost entirely still. We were going to put him on anti inflammatories for about 3 days and if no response, a decision would have to be made. However, we left and 5 minutes later the vet phoned us because Sir Chewy had made his own decision. We put him to rest yesterday in the backyard in the middle of a flower garden. We buried him with his fleece hammock, a fresh ball of wood, cinamon pet pasta, a big apple stick, a piece of lava rock, and his fleece frog buddy in a cardboard box on which Brian and I wrote thoughts about him on.

Sir Chewy loved apple sticks, they were a treat for him. His favorite treat though was cinamon pet pasta and he would do anything for it. Brian like to make him reach for it, and when he did I swear Sir Chewy stretched to almost a foot tall. He had salt and pepper fur, which was gray after his ash baths; he had a curly tale. He like to shave his fur into a mohawk. He had such a great personality, he had opinions and he let you know them. He liked carrying around his fleece buddy, but he didn’t like being carried around himself much.

If Sir Chewy could have had two wheels in his cage, he would have found a way to run on them both at the same time. That’s why I didn’t get a second friend for him, I thought he’d hog the wheel too much. He was way spoiled, getting only the best food and hay. He was picky about his hay anyway and didn’t like to eat anything but Oxbow Timothy. He never bit, only nibbled, and he was so curious about everything. He was named because he chewed on everything under the sun; I had to get him a cage made out of wood and a glass waterbottle. He chewed through the plastic bottom of his first cage and water bottles. His favorite move was the kangaroo hop, which he did when he was exceptionally happy. He enjoyed frightening Sasha and was never afraid of her. He loved Brian to scratch under his chin and would through his front paws wide in pleasure. For some reason, I myself could never hit the right spot.

He was a member of our family, and I will miss him so much. I thought he had years left before we saw him pass away. The hardest part right now is sitting in his room, Sir Chewy’s room, as we called it, and seeing his empty cage and hearing silence instead of his running wheel and having no furry guy to rub or hold or talk to. I love him so much. Goodbye Sir Chewy.