Monday 29th September, 2003 – Goodbye Minni

This weekend we lay Minni to rest next to her lifelong friend and partner in mischief, Pecan. This was no simple operation. Given that Jane and I live in a rented flat in Guildford, and thus have no garden, there is no obvious place for us to bury dead gerbils. We could take her to the park nearby, but the likelihood of her remaining in her resting place for more than 3 or 4 days, before being dug up and consumed by a hungry dog or badger, would be minimal.

So, when Pecan died, we were faced with the dilemma of what to do with her. We decided that the best thing to do would be to take her to Exeter, and bury her at the bottom of the garden of Jane’s family home, next to Gus, the giant rabbit (Gus was so giant that, when he was put to sleep, the vet had no receptacle big enough to carry his body, so he was stuffed into a shoebox far too small to contain his enormous bulk. Jane and her sister were traumatised when their Dad walked through the front door with Gus’ body spilling obscenely out of the sides of the straining box).

Thankfully, we were planning to head back to Exeter that weekend anyway. However, Pecan was put to sleep on the Wednesday, so the vet had to keep her in their freezer for the rest of the week. Come Friday, we were faced with the problem of how to get Pecan all the way to Exeter (a 3-and-a-half hour journey at the best of times) on one of the hottest days of the year, without her thawing out.

Dutifully, we walked down to Robert Dyas and purchased a cool bag. This was to be Pecan’s padded, cool, gel-stuffed hearse. And on the Friday afternoon, we pulled up outside the vets, packed and ready, carefully placed her cold little body into the cool bag, and began our furious mercy dash to the West Country.

The idea of poor Pecan defrosting in the back of our car was enough to push Jane to new heights of Schumacher-esque daring behind the wheel of our Punto. It would have been a supreme irony had we perished in our rush to dispose of the corpse of our pet gerbil. But one that probably would have been lost on the local news reporters covering our tragic deaths, leaving me raging furiously from heaven / hell at their incompetence and lack of journalistic nous.

In the end, we reached our destination before Pecan turned to furry mulch in the boot of the car, and had a perfunctory but moving burial ceremony (we placed her in the pre-dug hole, Jane’s dad dropped a heavy clod of earth on top of her and said “You may as well bloody stick the other one in with her while you’ve got the chance”).

So, when Minni died, we were faced with the prospect of a repeat performance - asking the vet to keep her on ice until the weekend, when we would rush her down to Exeter to be interred. Kindly, the vet agreed to do so, and we managed to transport her safely and without incident. Jane and I had the opportunity to spend a little bit more time with her this time, before putting her in the ground. Despite my worries about what she would be like, Jane convinced me to pull back the tissue paper shrouding her body, so we could stroke her one last time. She was as beautiful as ever, and it was a little bit heartbreaking to have to say goodbye to her.

She was a good gerbil. * Sniff *