One such event is the death and eventual funeral of my rat, Petunia. One weekend early in the summer it came time for me to change the litter in my rat's cage. Now, this was a thankless chore, and I didn't want to do it. So I argued with my mother, explaining that doing the job was pointless, as Petunia--an elderly rat--was likely to soon die. Mother insisted, and so I spent the next hour in the sun, slaving away over a pile of hot wood chips.
The next day, sunday, I was in my room when I saw little Petunia, lying on her back, suddenly stretch, writhe, and roll about. I feared the worst. But she was okay. So I continued on with what I was doing:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fGoY7A50Txw&feature=channel_video_title
Later that night I was preparing for bed, long after everyone had faded into the night, when I looked into the freshly cleaned cage and saw, to my grave disappointment, that Petunia had shuffled loose this mortal coil. I was at once sad--my rat was dead--at once relieved--her death had been a constant shadow hover above--and at once really ticked off--I had just cleaned her cage!
I left my room and tried to tell Mom, but she was asleep. I went and found my brother and cousin, informed them of the bad news, and invited them back to my room for a ratty farewell...
We said some words, took some pictures, then I put Petunia, along with her personal little hidey-box, into a plastic bag and then onto the outgoing trashcan.
And thus, she was gone.
In retrospect, that doesn't sound like a very funny story, but at the time it was late, we were tired yet slightly giddy, and we had fun saying goodbye to little Petunia. So we say again...
Goodbye, Tuners. Goodbye.