Krystle Mohawk

Rhetoric

Anecdote

9/30/98

My life changed one Sunday without my knowledge or consent. The incidents taking place that day and the following weeks would affect my life forever. They have changed how I think and act, and what I feel. I am now determined and set in one goal…to become a veterinarian.

On Saturday, I had noticed that my pet sugar glider, named Wicket, was acting kind of strange, and biting herself. I thought that maybe she had Giardia, a common parasite in sugar gliders that causes diarrhea. I called the vet and made an appointment to take her in Monday after school. I wasn’t feeling very well myself, so my full attention wasn’t on Wicket. This was probably the worst mistake I have ever made.

When I woke up on Sunday, my own illness had gotten worse. I was running a fever of 101. My mom came in to take my temperature, and I asked her to get Wicket out so I could lay with her. My mom did so reluctantly telling me not to get to close to Wicket for fear I would get her sick. She handed me the little sleeping ball of fur and went downstairs. I decided to watch some TV while I laid holding Wicket.

After a while, Wicket began to stir. When she finally woke up, she began biting herself again. I wrapped an old T-shirt around her so she couldn’t bite at her rectum, and that is when I noticed the blood. I went hysterical and started screaming for my mom. When she came and saw Wicket, she agreed that we were going to have to take Wicket to the vet as soon as possible.

I spent that morning crying while my mom and dad got out the phone book to find a vet open on Sundays that had some experience with sugar gliders. After an hour or so, we finally were able to contact the Dundee Animal Hospital which has an emergency animal facility and a vet with glider experience, Dr. Laura J. Hardy, coming in later. My parents got dressed while I prepared a carrier for Wicket. When I began to get myself ready to go, my mom told me to lie back down. She said that I was only going to make myself sicker by going along to the vet. After some persuasion, I convinced her that since I knew the most about Wicket, they should let me go too.

We loaded into the car; mom, dad, Wicket, and me and started down Randall Road towards the Dundee Animal Hospital. When we got there, we had to wait about half an hour before the doctor came to see Wicket. The whole time I held my little glider and rubbed her head. I tried to comfort her the best I could. The doctor, upon entering, did the usual stuff. She weighed Wicket and took a stool sample to check for parasites. She said that Wicket had a prolapsed rectum. She was not sure, however, how the rectum had become prolapsed. She sent us home with some antibiotics and her office hours and told us to call to get the results of the stool sample in a day or two.

I took Wicket home and gave her the first dose of medication. Then we laid down together for a nap after our traumatic experience at the vet. After holding Wicket for a while, I decided to put her into her favorite little sleeping sack. The sack was in the carrier beside the couch I was laying on. I was going to do some homework while my parents went out. I must have fallen asleep because I was awakened by the sound of squawking. I grabbed Wicket from the carrier and held her in a shirt and calmed her down. I could never have imagined what she had done. It wasn’t until I saw all the blood that I knew something was seriously wrong. I opened up the shirt, and held Wicket tightly so that she could not fold herself over to bite at her rectum anymore. It was not her rectum that I had to worry about.

As I opened up the shirt and examined the mess my tiny glider had made of herself, I saw something creamy white through all the blood and skin. Wicket had torn the skin off the base of her tail, and she had exposed the cartilage and bone. I could feel my stomach curdle at the sight. I quickly got up and, still holding Wicket, ran to the phone. I dialed the number for the Dundee Animal Hospital but there was no answer. By now, I was crying and screaming, but there was no one to help me or Wicket. I tried to make my way back to the couch, but I almost passed out. I ended up falling into a chair at the kitchen table. First, my vision became blurry, and then there was a ringing in my ears. When I finally got some strength back, I flung myself to the couch where I lay crying and telling Wicket that I would get her help and that mom and dad would be coming soon. I was lucky because they did return home soon. They came in to find me on the couch sobbing and holding my precious Wicket. I screamed to them to help us. They must have thought I was crazy. I wanted them to try calling the vet again. My dad tried to get me to hand over Wicket, but I refused. He made some calls, but because of the late hour, the vet said that nothing could be done until tomorrow and then we would have to call their Elgin office.

I didn’t relax for one second during the whole ordeal until Wicket had fallen asleep. It was then that I finally allowed my dad to look at her. The blood had dried, preventing him from seeing how mangled the base of her tail was. She was all right for now, but the problem would be what to do during the night. You see sugar gliders are nocturnal animals, so if Wicket was let free for the night, she would most certainly injure herself even worse. My dad said we would have to hold her. Now my dad has always been the greatest; but on this day, he earned my respect and admiration forever. He spent the whole night awake holding Wicket in a T-shirt so she wouldn’t chew at her wound. He rubbed her little head so she would be comforted and would fall asleep.

On Monday, I stayed home from school and went with my parents and Wicket to the vet. We brought her in when the office opened. Dr. Hardy said Wicket would probably need stitches, but that they wouldn’t know for sure until they could knock her out and examine her better. That is not as easy as it might sound. Little animals do not do well under anesthesia. There was a risk that she might not make it through what, for a bigger animal, would be a routine procedure. I had to let them try or I would lose her for sure. So, we left Wicket there and my mom took me out to breakfast and then back home. The next few hours were horrible for me. I spent them wondering what could happen. I began to ask routinely for my mom to call and see if Wicket was out of surgery yet. When she finally did call, we found that they hadn’t begun but that Wicket was resting comfortably. Finally, we got the call saying Wicket was out of surgery. She had stitches at the base of her tail. We went later that afternoon to pick her up.

She looked rather silly. Not only was her butt shaved and stitched, but they had fitted her with a blue collar made especially for her from X-ray film. They said we should continue with the antibiotics and that we were going to have to give Wicket special care because the collar would limit her abilities. Limit was an understatement.

Wicket was totally helpless. She could no longer live in her gigantic bird cage and was instead confined to an upside down laundry basket. She also couldn’t reach her food to eat, so we were going to have to hand feed her. Thus, began my new schedule.

I spent the next few weeks getting up even earlier than usual. I would medicate and feed Wicket. Instead of going out with my friends at lunch, I came home to feed Wicket and again give her a dose of medicine. I also took a week off from Track so that I could come home directly from school to be with Wicket. I don’t regret any of this. I only wish it would have helped.

This time was also filled with more vet trips and finally a referral to a specialist. His name was Dr. Robert D. Ness, and he worked at the Midwest Exotic Animal Hospital. He was Wicket’s last hope; and after over two weeks in her helpless state, the collar had to come off as it had begun to cut up her neck. To add to all these problems, Wicket had begun to chew at her tail again. It started out by just getting inflamed. Then she lost the hair on a portion of her tail. Finally, Wicket chewed her tail open and this was with the collar on. We still had to take the collar off before anymore damage was done to her neck. Dr. Ness came up with a new idea to keep her from folding over and chewing her tail. He wrapped up her tail and taped it up on her back. It seemed like the perfect solution and meant that Wicket could go collarless. I left the vet thinking Wicket was finally going to be okay.

On our way home from the Midwest Exotic Animal Hospital, Wicket fell asleep and I started to doze off. When I woke up, we were almost home. We pulled into the garage, and I put Wicket into her carrier and took her inside. She had already been fed but I hadn’t, so I set her down while I made lunch. When I went back to take her out, she was rolling around and trying to bite through the tape on her tail. I became worried and had my dad call the vet. The only other thing Dr. Ness could think of was to wrap a toilet paper roll around her body. I was in a frenzy by now, because Wicket had been able to get at her old scar and was again bleeding. My dad calmed me down and had me hold Wicket while he taped the roll on Wicket’s tail. Although she didn’t like her situation, she was tired from the fuss and fell asleep. I took her up to my room to put her into the laundry basket. Then, I went out to the store with my sister.

An hour or so later, I arrived home to find both Wicket and my dad gone. There was a message on the telephone answering machine from my mom. It said my dad had taken Wicket back in to Dundee Animal Hospital to see what else they could do. I really thought she was going to be okay. When my mom came home from work, she said that Wicket was pretty bad. It was then that I really began to worry. Around five or so, my dad returned home from the vet, but he was not holding Wicket’s carrier. With tears in his eyes, he broke the news. Wicket had chewed her tail off. She kept chewing at herself, despite the loss of her tail even at the vet. My dad had made the decision to put her to sleep, and end her suffering.

We buried her that very day under an apple tree I had bought for her the previous year. The next day, I planted flowers over her with the help of my dad. I went out and watered them all the time. When I had to move from that house, I felt I was leaving her behind. Now, I realize that she will always be with be in my memories and in my heart. I still say goodnight to her every night. That is how much she has affected me. Her short life touched me like no others could have. It is for her that I became determined to become a veterinarian. Maybe, if more was known about these little marsupials, who are termed "exotics," Wicket could have been treated better and survived. I am going to try to be that "someone" who knows a little more about them. I will devote the rest of my life to obtaining the knowledge and skills to save other gliders in need like my Wicket. I will always remember Wicket.