A little over five years ago, Brian gave me one of the best surprises of my life on my birthday. He said he needed a ride to an office in Kansas City, and ended up having me drive him to a hedgehog breeder, who gave us the most precious little baby hog with a white spot on her side. I instantly fell in love with her, and took my dad's advice to name her Penny. She meant the world to me. I remember the first time I left her in my apartment alone to go to class. I cried all the way up the hill to the KU campus, irrationally afraid that my place would catch on fire and she would be hopeless, alone, and scared.
But she survived through college, and everyone around me quickly knew of my proud new status as a hedgehog mom. I did photography and screen printing projects on her, and she was always there for me when I got home from a long day. I loved setting her loose in my tiny apartment while I worked on stop-motion projects for class, and once captured the most beautiful shot of her running around happily, right into my shot of a pear talking in a cardboard city set (it's a picture I can never find unless I am not thinking about it, and I wish so badly I had it now). I would curl up with her under my bedsheets, where she would flop her belly onto my belly and snooze, or burrow down to the bottom of my foot and lay next to it as if she was giving it a hug. Those were always some of my favorite times throughout these past years - snuggling for a few hours under the warmth of the bed covers.
We moved to Kansas City and in with Brian after school, and we felt like a happy family. I would give her baths in the kitchen sink. She hated getting those baths, but she loved snuggling up in a towel afterwards. I would take her to Lincoln with me sometimes, and carry her around in the front pocket of my hoodie. I once smuggled her into a diner in my coat, which I knew would upset my mom but I did it anyway, because I didn't want to leave her alone in the car. Brian gave Penny her first worm in Kansas City, which she immediately loved the taste of, and ate worms up like wriggling spaghetti for the rest of her life. And it was in Kansas City where we also learned her love for the outdoors - she loved maneuvering through the blades of grass, feeling them brush up along her face.
After Kansas City, I smuggled her into Calgary. Another one of my favorite pictures is of her snuggling into Brian's shoulder on a bed in a hotel, both looking dead-tired after a 24 hour drive. She was always a warm body to come home to after a long day of work, and even though Brian didn't want her in the bed or on the couch because she'd sometimes use it as her toilet, I would still sneak her in, because it was worth his frustration and her excrements. Every second I could spend snuggling up with her was worth it. And it was in Calgary where I learned to put her into the bathtub when she woke up, where she would go to the bathroom in a mutually appropriate spot. It was also when we learned that she absolutely loved playing with toilet paper tubes. She loved rolling them with her nose or getting her head stuck in them and walking around for hours.
I still remember how elated I was when we crossed back into the states after moving home from Calgary. I was so nervous they wouldn't let her back in, and spent many nights awake thinking about it. But those five minutes after we crossed back into the states, with Penny on my lap, are five minutes I wouldn't trade for the world. We moved back to Kansas City, where she eventually met her new baby brother Boomer, and then to New Jersey. She got lost on the car trip out to Jersey, and Brian and I were both sure she was a goner, but once we got everything unloaded we found her curled up in the darkest corner she could find under the seat. And it is here, in New Jersey, where she ended her life today. I knew she was dying for the past few days, and spent them holding her and crying. She passed away in my lap this afternoon, and I can't put into words how much I hurt. She lived a long life, but I wanted her to live longer.
Penny started out scared and forever in a tight, poky ball, but she slowly came out of her shell over time and learned how wonderful life can be. She never let anyone take any sort of advantage of her, and was known to bite hard enough to draw blood and hold on for as long as she could. But she only bit when she found it necessary (or when she was around our buddy Rhen - the nicest guy in the world, but she sure did love to bite him), and allowed me to share her love with my nieces and nephews.
She's taught me so many life lessons, and she'll always be a part of me. I won't ever forget the time I was able to have with her, and I hope she was happy with the life she got. I know I am.
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