Peaches

This is a blog I knew I’d have to one day write; knowing it was coming didn’t make it any easier.

In my journey as a single Dad, there have been a lot of incredible moments where I’ve seen the beauty in life; in particular, the joy of Atlas as he experiences the world around him.

When I was a little boy, I remember going to pet stores, zoos and aquariums. The trips, even at a young age, instilled a love and respect for nature that has extended well into my adult years. Thanks for that, Mom.

In the Plaat household, pets were a regular part of life. I can’t even begin to count the number of animals that made their way through the doors of 1239 Bradshire Drive, though a few stand out more than others.

As an adult, I could reflect back on the impact both the pets and trips to see animals made on the quality of my childhood. As important as they were to my memories, it was only natural to surround Atlas with pets and teach him to appreciate – and respect – animal life.

One day, I was shopping on marketplace and I stumbled across a reptile cage. Larger than most rodent cages, I figured it would make for the perfect hamster cage..and it did.

Less than a week later, Atlas and I went to the pet store and bought the hamster he liked the most. We affectionately named her “Peaches” and she quickly became a fun part of the Plaat household. I’d set her on top of the coffee table while Atlas would feed her as many snacks as she could fit in her cheeks while he roared with laughter.

 

One night, I looked down at her cage and saw the top was open. Peaches had escaped.

I looked all over for her, but couldn’t see or hear her anywhere. I called my Mom. She prayed.

Days later, I found myself up late at night and I heard a scratching sound coming from the kitchen. I ran over to the sound, which was coming from the kitchen sink cabinet, and looked inside.

Curled up in the back sat Peaches.

I quickly scooped her up and carried her back to her cage, where she immediately began drinking water and eating. It was then that I noticed her back leg wasn’t moving, and she seemed incredibly weak.

I quickly looked up her symptoms and found out that she had likely suffered kidney damage, and had a high chance of dying within 3-4 days.

Again, I called my Mom…this time, there were hot tears running down my face.

She prayed.

Peaches made a recovery. Her leg never regained full mobility, but she had her spunk back within a few short days and was once again stuffing her cheeks with Atlas.

For over two years, Peaches brought laughter, joy and happiness to both me and Atlas. She wasn’t just a hamster; she was an instrumental tool in the development of Atlas, as well as my task(s) as a single Dad.

On more occasions than I can count, Peaches entertained Atlas during moments where I desperately needed a break. Him locking his attention on her gave me invaluable minutes that helped make it through the challenging times.

Last night, I went to give Peaches water and I noticed that she wasn’t moving. Reaching inside her cage, I confirmed what I knew was coming; she had passed away.

At time went by, her leg seemed to cause more and more difficulty for her mobility, and I knew that eventually death would take its turn with her, as it does all living things.

As Atlas slept, I removed her body annd cleaned out her well-loved cage. As I was cleaning, I did my best to figure out how I would break the news to Atlas.

This afternoon, after church, I unbucked Atlas from his car seat and decided it was time to break the news to him…

I sat him down in my lap and looked into his eyes as I explained that she had died.

He looked up at me, silent. Both of our eyes welled with tears and he silently reached around my neck to hug me. As he held me, we both cried.

“Peaches is with God now?” he asked me.

“Yes, Atlas. Peaches is with God now.”

“And with your Dad?”

“Yes, Atlas. With my Dad, too.”

We both dug a hole in  our back yard and placed a little bag in it with her body. When it was all covered up, we said a prayer of gratitude for her and went inside, a little quieter than when we left in the morning.