Granddad (1923 - 1991)
Even though my memories of my Granddad are a bit vague (except for certain events), my feelings for him remain strong.  I remember him as a quiet man, very kind and talented at carving things out of wood.  I remember his accent (he was from Latvia) and that he wore brown shorts and ugly shirts.  I remember he had false teeth and whenever I'd complain about food being too chewy, he'd take them out and say "Would you like to borrow my teeth?" :)  I make that joke now sometimes. It's not as funny coming from me.
I remember the day he died as though it were yesterday.
A few days before hand, we'd gotten a call from Granny telling us Granddad was in the hospital.  I knew he had lung cancer and I think I was told he was dying, but I don't think I understood what death meant at that point.  Anyway, we flew up to Brisbane and settled into Granny's house.  Every day we'd visit Granddad, though to be honest I couldn't tell you how many days that consisted of.   I do remember we'd eat McDonalds for dinner and have food from the hospital cafeteria for lunch and snacks.
I remember the last few moments he was alive very vividly.  I was sitting by the window sill, eating Kool Mints and just looking out at the sky.  I remember it being a nice day, with a bright blue sky and fluffy clouds floating by.   From out of nowhere, a feather gently floated down and landed softly on the window sill.  That was almost the exact moment that Granddad must have died, because when I turned around, my Granny was crying her broken heart out and even though to my seven year old eyes, he just looked like he was sleeping a very deep and peaceful sleep, I knew he was gone.
That's where my memories become vague again.

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Pets

Aubie (November 26 1996 - May 4 2003)
Aubie passed away just a few shot weeks ago and I still haven't fully accepted it.  I'm still having to remind myself that I can't go out and see him or give him a cuddle.
Aubie was Lilly's son, which is why I find his death so sad.  First, he was my last link with Lilly.  Second, I watched him grow from the day he was born (I was lucky enough to get home in time to witness his birth) and almost up until the day he died.
Aubie had a very strong personality, although in hsi final year it was very watered down.  When he was young he was quite agressive and could get quite rough with Lilly.  She was looking very haggard, so we had Aubie desexed.  After that he was a much sweeter rabbit.  He moved in with the guinea pigs when Lilly died and they got along quite well together.  He was like the Patriarch of the backyard and to eb honest he looked somewhat like Jabba the Hut in his later years.  As he got older, he sat around more and I suppose that's where the bulge came from.  He did go for the occasional run around our kitchen but the last time he simply hopped around a bit, chose a corner and lay down in it.
I knew that Aubie was on his way out.  I always expected I'd have time to say goodbye, I was determined to.  Mum had other ideas though and she buried him without even telling me he was gone.  I am one of those people who needs to see the body so I can begin the grieving process,  Otherwise it's far too easy for me to go into denial.  I'm always going to be mad at my mother for that.

Lister (February 1998 - 2002)
Lister was bought to "replace" Zaphod.  He had a similar personality, totally insane little brat.  He did have an adorable mohawk though. :)
To be honest, I never did get that close to Lister.  It wasn't that I disliked him.  I think that by the time we got Lister I was getting to an age where it's harder to connect with such small animals, due to busier lives and lame excuses.  I do regret not getting to know him better and taking him for granted.

Chakotay (February 2 1996 - March 11 2001)
Chakotay was Mum's guinea pig.  He was a sweet little pig, the last of the originals.  Like all lucky animals, he died of old age in early 2001.

Lilly (June 21 1995 - March 16 1998)
When I was twelve, I was given my first pet, a beautiful lilac rex rabbit, which I named Lilly. Earlier that year, my mother and I had attended a rabbit show and met a woman who showed the most stunning looking rabbits, with velvet coats, long ears (even for rabbits) and graceful bodies. Apparently these divine creatures were known as rexes and incidentally she was expecting a litter on June 22. We decided to buy one of the then unborn kittens.
As it turns out, Lilly was born on June 21. We brought her home soon after and right from the start I adored her. She was so gorgeous, a light grey colour, with huge dark eyes that made her look constantly surprised and she was charming to match. I treated her like my baby, constantly cuddling her and scolding her if she messed up her coat (as she did often, stupid brat) by sitting under her water bottle and getting dripped all over. Lilly would sit a paw on either of my shoulders and lick my chin while I watched bad afternoon TV, and she had a curious habit of sticking her rear end in your face.
In that first year, she was good-natured for the most part, with a slightly cantankerous outer shell. Lilly had a habit of grunting at you if came too near during one her moods and she was known to bite, often hard. She even bit me in the boob once and I can tell you that hurt!! It turns out rabbits go through puberty, from what I've observed.
As her 'puberty' raged on and she grunted and bit her way through it, my mother and I agreed she should have a litter of her own, to give her the chance to have children, before we had her desexed, which we hoped would settle her down. As it happened, my brother's friend had a rabbit who was quite wiling to help out and before you could say 'Gee, I didn't know a tail could move so fast!' Lilly was expecting.
One day after school I peeped into Lilly's cage and saw her sitting amongst this furry nest she had made, with this constipated look on her face. Upon closer inspection, I noticed the nest was moving and after a moment of head scratching, I realised Lilly was in labour and had just delivered her first child. The moments that proceeded were among the most moving of my life, it truly is a wondrous thing to witness a birth, especially when those involved are loved by you.
Lilly had five kittens, four of which we gave away. Her son, Aubie, who until recently still hung out in my backyard, enjoying his patriarchal status, was a brat of a kid. As he got older, he became brutish, and horny, horny like you wouldn't believe!! It was fairly typical dominant male behaviour but it was hurting Lilly. She looked horribly frazzled and worn out, though her feisty nature remained.  We decided to get Aubie desexed in an attempt to calm him down and save Lilly from him.
Sadly, Lilly's health did not improve. She continued to look sick and was off her food. At the time I had no idea how serious her condition had become, until it was too late.
On Monday, March 16, 1998, Lilly passed away.
She had been so sick that weekend, she ate nothing and all her crankiness had disappeared to be replaced by all the softness she had had as a babe, with a new sense of dignity and even a little sorrow. That Saturday, I sat with her on my back porch, while she lay quietly in my lap. Looking back, I feel as though if she'd had the means to speak, she would have told me goodbye. We made an appointment for the vet first thing Tuesday, due to the public holiday on Monday. We'd never show.
Her death was so painful to watch, and it brings me to tears to even type. She lay in her cage, struggling to breath, barely able to move. I sat with her, feeling this horrible sense of dread, before walking outside to talk to Mum.
'Mum, Lilly's breathing funny.' I whimpered.
Mum looked grim. 'You know there is a chance she may not get better?'
I simply nodded and walked back inside.
It was indescribable, seeing Lilly's surprised eyes staring blindly at nothing. I searched so hard for signs of life my eyes hurt. Realising, yet no accepting, I backed away from her, screaming for Mum.
We buried Lilly under a tree in the backyard. Placing her in the earth was gut-wrenching, trying to carry her out to her grave was bad enough, she was as limp as a rag doll, but seeing her in that hole, with the dirt gradually covering her, it tore me apart.
They say time heals the hurt, for me the grief grew stronger. I missed her warm presence, her snuggling into my shoulder, even her snappy puberty blues. When Lilly first died, suddenly I found Aubie to be the ugliest, most unappealing rabbit to ever have existed. I'm not entirely sure why, perhaps I resented his being alive, while I missed his mother.
I have graudally accepted it was not my fault and even if it was, Lilly would never hold me accountable.  I still miss her though.

Fred (June 4 1995 - January 2 1998) and Zaphod (February 1996 - January 2 1998)

P.C. (Mid 1980's - 1996)
P.C. didn't technically belong to us, though I have recently decided he belonged to no one.  P.C. was his own cat, coming and going as he pleased, staying with whomever he pleased, and it just so happened our neighbours were legally responsible for him.
I met P.C. when our current neighbours moved in sometime in 1993.  He'd pop round for a chat every so often to begin with, but after we catsit for him a couple of times and he got to know us, he came over every day.
People don't usually understand the bond I share with P.C.  While he was in my life, we connected on an almost human level.  I remember moments where I'd talk to him and he'd reply in very human sounding meows.   He brought me a mouse once or twice, how sweet of him.  I think of P.C. as a very wise cat, he had a certain walk about him that was wild.  Most domesticated cats don't walk like that.  He could be cheeky as well.  He'd come round for breakfast and jump up to try and eat my toast.  A few times I caught him eating meat that Mum had left out to defrost.
The youngest girl started hating me because P.C. spent so much time over here and began accusing me of stealing him.  I'm sorry, but you can't steal a living thing.  P.C. came over on his own accord and if she loved him so much, she would have shown him before he found affection elsewhere and not have gotten so wrapped up in her new kitten she forgot he ever existed.   She still has a grudge against me, not that it bothers me.  Though it does sadden me that it probaly hurt P.C. to see two girl he loved hating each other so passionately.
I always knew he was an old cat and that I'd one day have to say goodye, but I always saw that day as in the future, the distant future.  That day came in August 1996.  On the eve of the 2nd P.C. didn't come in for dinner and the neighbours rang us to ask if we knew where he was.  I'd seen him that afternoon and I remember now how forlorn he looked when I let him out.  I regret now that I didn't keep him with me, maybe I could have prevented his death, but I think he knew his time was up, which is probably why he looked so sad.
Two weeks later our neighbours found his body and didn't even tell us.   I've hated them ever since and I will continue to hate them for as long as I know them.   I think if I'd seen his body or his grave, I would have been able to accept that he was gone earlier, instead of continuing to look for him after school for months and missing the way he'd hide in the bushes just before our front yard and come running out to greet me when I got home.  To me, P.C. will never be dead, though I realise he technically is.  I just won't see him again in this life.
 
 

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