Smeagol here during his favorite pastime - hanging out in people's palms.
Smeagol during one of our little holiday trips. So well behaved!
Three days ago, my Mom called me at 6.30 a.m. I was hardly awake by then.
“Smeagol died!” She exclaimed. Smeagol, our pet sugar glider, was found dead by my Father in his cage. The night before Smeagol had a ball playing on the dining table as my brother sat there with my Mom, doing his homework. Nobody knew how or why he died. I cried immediately after I hung up the phone.
For the rest of the day I kept thinking about him. Sure, he’s just an animal. Sure, he doesn’t have feelings like we do. I’m probably being a little dramatic. But for the rest of us who have had a pet died, you would know exactly how I feel. A pet isn’t just an animal that lives around the house with you. They’re little living therapies. They make us feel like life is a lot happier. They bring families closer. They remind us that bonding and loyalty is what makes this hard life a lot more bearable.
Smeagol was a gift from my brother to my Mom for her birthday. He was a tiny cutie, still very much a baby. Sugar gliders love being around people. When you put him on your shoulder he’ll wonder around in your pocket, on your arm, and he loves curling up in your palm and sleeping. Once he made such a racket in his cage that I took him out, thinking that he probably wanted to wander around. Instead, all he wanted to do was climb right into in my hands, curl up and sleep. He loves sitting around the TV room amongst the whole family while we’re all watching TV. We took him on trips and he was always well behaved, and even the little attention-seeker at times.
We still couldn’t figure out what caused its sudden death. Maybe it was the cold nights, maybe there was something wrong with his diet, but my kid brother who’s ten years old is still convinced that we spread the flu disease to poor Smeagol (the whole family had flu last week). My Mom reported that at his little grave in our backyard, my brother placed his Ben10 toy at the head of the grave. He also still cries every time he thinks about little Smeagol. Same here, buddy. Same here.