Fly Free, Little Milton
I only knew you for 6 days, but in that short time, I had given you my heart. That was my promise to you, after all. I wanted you to know what it was to have a family that loved you completely and whole-heartedly. I pray that when you drifted away in my arms, you knew that.
You were so small, so sweet, so gentle. You deserved so much more than the hand you were dealt. I’m sorry that your life was cut short. I’m sorry that you didn’t get to experience all of the wonderful things I hoped you would get to experience – the love of your brothers and sisters, an adventure with Sophie and Kylo Ren, a wrestling match with Caster, group play time with everyone. I am angry you didn’t get those things; angry that I didn’t have more time with you; angry that you had to leave so soon.
I knew our time together may be short, but I didn’t think it would be this short.
I am grateful for the time we had. Thank you for letting me experience your love. I will always cherish the sweet memories of you cuddling up on my shoulder every night, reaching out for my face with your teeny-tiny little paw. You never could get close enough.
As much as I may be hurting right now, I want you to know that I would do it all again. I’m just sorry I couldn’t save you.
The one comfort I take in your loss is that you are in a much better place. You are big and strong now, you have beautiful eyes, a big bushy tail, and you are free from any pain.
You will forever be in my heart.
Fly free, Little Milton.
Milton passed away here at home in my arms early Friday morning. I don’t know what happened, other than his little body just gave up. He had taken a sudden turn for the worse on Wednesday and we rushed him to the vet for emergency services. His body temperature was 6 degrees lower than it should have been, so the vet warmed him back up and gave him fluids and sugars. We brought him home a couple hours later, where we monitored his temperature, administered fluids as needed, and syringe fed him every 1-2 hours. By Thursday evening he seemed to be doing much better, and I was hopeful he would make a full recovery. That night I went to bed with him cuddled up against my face, purring. I woke up every couple hours to check on him and make sure he was doing okay. Then at 5:30am Friday morning, I woke up and he was obviously struggling. We gave him fluids and tried to feed him, but an hour later he was gone.
I wish so badly that I could go back to last Sunday when we brought him home and try again. Maybe I would have been able to save him if I had done something differently. It’s too late now.