Jamie

Jamie was like a dandelion that had come alive. I still remember how nervous I was when I first held him, so soft, I thought he’d vanish if I breathed too hard. He didn’t like to be cuddled much, but he’d sit nearby, chewing on his little block like he had important work to do. He was most active at night. You’d hear him sprinting in his wheel like it was some kind of secret midnight race. It was weirdly comforting, those sounds in the quiet. Jamie had this habit of just staring at me while I studied. Like he knew I was stressing and was silently judging me for not taking more dust baths or whatever. When he started slowing down, I didn’t realize right away. I thought maybe he was just sleepy. But it became clear pretty fast that he wasn’t okay. We tried the vet, but they said it was time. I held him in a towel and he curled up like a comma and just rested. Now I study in silence. It’s hard. No wheel. No rustle. He wasn’t loud. He wasn’t flashy. But he was mine. kinda!!. And he made the world gentler while he was in it.