I got ManRay when he was just a wee one after he and his mama and siblings were found in a field somewhere in California. He had a burned little nose from too much sun but was the sweetest little guy. It was probably from all of the powdered sugar doughnuts he’d swiped from me over the years. I swear Manny thought he was a dog, the way he would leap high into the air to fetch and bring me his toys and would look at me expectantly until I’d pat him on the back and tell him, “good boy.” He was so sweet to his little brother, SugarRay, licking him like crazy every night as they’d cuddle up together. I wish I could be more poetic here. Manny certainly does deserve much prettier words but he wouldn’t care. He was happy with any little bit of attention I gave him. Jubilee loved petting, kissing, and talking to him and he certainly appreciated her love.
Up until a few days ago, he was still such a feisty little guy…eating half a chipmunk and leaving the other half, the tail, and a foot as an offering, figuring out how to escape from the basement by unlocking a window, tracking his feather toy, and trying to sneak into the house every chance he got.
This morning it became apparent that ManRay had no more fight left in his frail body and I had to officially become an adult by making the most serious decision I’ve ever had to make. It was time to let him go. It hurt like hell. It still does. I only wish we could afford the same luxury of dying with dignity and grace to humans as we do for our pets. Manny’s passing was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen besides the birth of my daughter. I’ll always remember my sweet little guy as he was, full of life, even in death. Rest in Peace, Big Man.