Free Animals and the Afterlife by Kim Sheridan

ever. She now relied upon me to feed her and to put her in her litter box when needed.
    “It’s okay,” I told her. “You can just go to the bathroom on me; I don’t care.” But without fail, she always looked up at me and asked me to set her down in her litter box first.
    “We can fix this,” I assured her as I frantically called animal communicators, vets, chiropractors, and healers. June patiently put up with poking and prodding, x-rays, and a wide assortment of exams by traditional as well as alternative practitioners. We tried Network chiropractic, herbs, homeopathics, TTouch, Reiki, hands-on healing, and various other healing modalities that are highly beneficial for humans and animals alike.
    No one was able to diagnosis any specific health condition, other than old age. (I’ve since learned that hind-leg paralysis is not uncommon in elderly rats.) No matter what I tried, June continued weakening and losing weight. I knew I was losing her, but I just couldn’t let her go. I tried to imagine life without her.
    “I don’t want another rat,” I told her softly. “I want you , June. Please stay.” She did her best to honor my request as I continued searching for someone who could help her. While some healers flat-out refused to help her because she was a rat, others rose to the occasion and expressed genuine concern. The experience taught me a lot about the many faces of human nature.
    “Are you sure you want to go to so much trouble?” one healer asked me over the phone. “After all, it’s just a rat .” After a long dissertation from me about how June was a very special soul who happened to inhabit a rat body, the healer was, by his own admission, deeply moved. He then called everyone he could think of who might be able to help.
    I had developed an incredibly strong bond with June and had learned to count on going happily to sleep each night with Jameth on one side and June on the other. I feared the end of her life was approaching much too soon. I fought it, all but kicking and screaming, all the way.
    Letting go was not an option. She couldn’t die—I loved her too much. Besides, I was a “health expert” and could surely find something to fix her. I suppose a part of me thought that she could be the world’s first immortal animal, so I continued my heartbreaking struggle to keep her alive.
    A week passed. June was no longer able to clean herself, so I bathed her with a warm washcloth at the bathroom sink. I brought her to bed and set her next to me, as I did every night. Her fur was still damp from the bath, so I decided to get her an extra little blanket to keep her warm. I found a soft piece of fabric covered with pink hearts, which made a perfect blanket for her. I settled her in and stroked her softly, telling her how very much I loved her, as we drifted off to sleep.
    When I awakened an hour or so later, June was very still. When I picked her up to go to her litter box, as I always did when I awakened during the night, I knew it was over. As I stood up, my legs weakened and I collapsed to the floor. I held June’s vacant body and shed larger tears than I had ever known. I felt as if a part of me had died. The pain that had gnawed at the pit of my stomach since that first morning, when I had discovered she couldn’t walk, had never left, and it now overtook me.
    Jameth awakened, and he held me for hours as I cried and clutched June’s lifeless form. You can never really be prepared for moments like this. Like life itself, you have to actually experience such moments to fully comprehend their depth.
    As I stroked her soft fur, now soaked in my tears, I demanded some answers. I no longer needed to understand what death was, or what the dying process was like. Now I needed to know why . Why had she died? What had I done wrong? Of course, I must have done something wrong, I told myself, or she wouldn’t have died. Death was no longer something I accepted. It was now something I