Chewbecca
feel the magic
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- Sep 7, 2007
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And I am devastated.
We fed, watered, and misted just Sunday night. We feed and do all of that every other day (though I normally peek in daily at all of my geckos) in the cooler months.
She was fine Sunday night. All healthy, vibrant, curious.
Reckoner has always had a rougher go with shedding than my other leos.
That is why I put a coconut hide in her adult enclosure, so that she could scrape herself on it while shedding.
I went to feed her last night, and I noticed that her humid hide and all the other stuff had been shoved forward, and her water bowl was dumped over.
And she was laying on the warm side of her enclosure, with shed on top of her head and on her toes.
But she was dark. She was almost brown. Like a green/brown.
I called my husband over, and he had me run upstairs and put some water in the bathroom sink.
We soaked her for a bit, but she didn't move. She occasionally opened her mouth for air, but her eyes were sunken in.
She was swollen from her left side of her mouth, down through below her jaw, and down her neck. She had a red/purple swollen line from right under jaw down the side of her throat and it went down her neck.
We checked our rack temps, which they were fine at 90-92.
We're pretty sure that in her thrashing from shedding, she was rubbing her head on the inside of the coconut hide and she must've lifted it, and when it came back down, it landed on her head and must've pinned her there.
She managed to get out, but not before the damage was done.
I had to type this through tears. I keep going through waves of being ok, then I'll cry. It's so awful.
In my 32 years of life, I've never seen a pet pass. I've had animals that, when I was younger, my parents took to have euthanized due to old age, but I've never had a pet of mine pass before.
I cannot get it out of my head. My poor baby. She's gone. And I cannot do anything about it. I cannot bring her back. I cannot soak her. I cannot take off the shed and make her better.
Even in dying, she gasped for air and TRIED to make it. But she was too far gone by the time we found her. Whatever injury she suffered from, it took her fast. And I cannot help but wonder if I had done something different, if I could have prevented it.
She was suffering, so Ben had to take care of the situation to end the suffering for her. She will be buried. Where, I do not know, but she will be buried.
This has taught me that I'm not great with death. This is so difficult. I loved her so much. She was my sweet gecko. She was calm and curious. I could hold her whenever I wanted, and she'd let me. She was one of the leos I could let other people hold. She was so good.
I will miss her so much.
I called a gecko friend in Texas who told my husband how to humanely euthanize her to end her suffering. She knew I couldn't do it.
I am just so devastated. And I know these things happen, and it probably won't be the last time it happens, especially since I'll be breeding (which I cannot even THINK about right now).
But I cannot imagine it getting any easier.
This is how I will remember you, Reckoner. I'm so sorry.
From the day kristi brought her to me.
I'm going to miss you.
We fed, watered, and misted just Sunday night. We feed and do all of that every other day (though I normally peek in daily at all of my geckos) in the cooler months.
She was fine Sunday night. All healthy, vibrant, curious.
Reckoner has always had a rougher go with shedding than my other leos.
That is why I put a coconut hide in her adult enclosure, so that she could scrape herself on it while shedding.
I went to feed her last night, and I noticed that her humid hide and all the other stuff had been shoved forward, and her water bowl was dumped over.
And she was laying on the warm side of her enclosure, with shed on top of her head and on her toes.
But she was dark. She was almost brown. Like a green/brown.
I called my husband over, and he had me run upstairs and put some water in the bathroom sink.
We soaked her for a bit, but she didn't move. She occasionally opened her mouth for air, but her eyes were sunken in.
She was swollen from her left side of her mouth, down through below her jaw, and down her neck. She had a red/purple swollen line from right under jaw down the side of her throat and it went down her neck.
We checked our rack temps, which they were fine at 90-92.
We're pretty sure that in her thrashing from shedding, she was rubbing her head on the inside of the coconut hide and she must've lifted it, and when it came back down, it landed on her head and must've pinned her there.
She managed to get out, but not before the damage was done.
I had to type this through tears. I keep going through waves of being ok, then I'll cry. It's so awful.
In my 32 years of life, I've never seen a pet pass. I've had animals that, when I was younger, my parents took to have euthanized due to old age, but I've never had a pet of mine pass before.
I cannot get it out of my head. My poor baby. She's gone. And I cannot do anything about it. I cannot bring her back. I cannot soak her. I cannot take off the shed and make her better.
Even in dying, she gasped for air and TRIED to make it. But she was too far gone by the time we found her. Whatever injury she suffered from, it took her fast. And I cannot help but wonder if I had done something different, if I could have prevented it.
She was suffering, so Ben had to take care of the situation to end the suffering for her. She will be buried. Where, I do not know, but she will be buried.
This has taught me that I'm not great with death. This is so difficult. I loved her so much. She was my sweet gecko. She was calm and curious. I could hold her whenever I wanted, and she'd let me. She was one of the leos I could let other people hold. She was so good.
I will miss her so much.
I called a gecko friend in Texas who told my husband how to humanely euthanize her to end her suffering. She knew I couldn't do it.
I am just so devastated. And I know these things happen, and it probably won't be the last time it happens, especially since I'll be breeding (which I cannot even THINK about right now).
But I cannot imagine it getting any easier.
This is how I will remember you, Reckoner. I'm so sorry.
From the day kristi brought her to me.
I'm going to miss you.
