She would have turned seven years old on February 27th—a milestone that now feels painfully out of reach. I first rescued her when she was just two days old, a tiny, fragile creature barely clinging to life. Over the years, she was released back into the wild several times, yet she always stayed close to home. She’d come back, time and again, to give birth to her babies here. Watching her deliver and raise her kits was the most incredible experience I’ve ever had as a wildlife rehabilitator.
She was a true fighter. She survived distemper, a devastating disease that left her with neurological issues. She was poisoned, faced numerous attacks in the wild, yet she kept coming back. After the distemper, she was deemed non-releasable, and for nearly five years, she lived indoors with me.
Our bond was unlike any other I’ve ever known. We depended on each other in ways that words can’t fully capture. She couldn’t make it without me, and I honestly don’t know how I could have made it without her. She was my constant companion, my soulmate, my heart.
Last night, she fell asleep on my chest. When I woke up, she was still there, lying peacefully. She looked up at me, licked my chin once, took a few deep breaths, and then she was gone. My heart is breaking. I feel utterly lost without her.
Thank you all for accepting me into this group. To those who have lost their beloved companions, please accept my deepest condolences. May you find strength and healing, and may her spirit bless us all.