By ETHAN BEVINGTON May 3, 2016
As humans, we come into this world with very little direction. Hopefully, we have parents that set us on the proper path and friends to root for us. If we are lucky, we have people on our side, hoping for our success, but it is never certain. If there is one certainty in life though, it is that our pets are always on our side — even if owning them in a first year dorm is in direct violation of campus rules.
Like any good friend, Tequila was always there for those who needed her. Whenever someone needed to avoid a problem set or take a break from a soul crushing Gender and Women’s Studies paper, she was there. Sure, saying her name caused security to come check to see if people were drinking in the room, but she was worth it.
If love is a journey, then loving Tequila was like climbing fucking Everest. She wouldn’t hydrate some days. Other days, she would pee on drunken guests who tried to hold her. Cleaning her cage was not exactly pleasant either.
Could anything ever fill the void left by such a presence? No. Not yet. She burrowed into our hearts much like she burrowed into her cage where she slept for twenty hours each day surrounded by her own feces.
Tequila is survived by her five mourning mothers. The service was brief, intimate, somber, and filled with Coldplay. The casket that now holds her cold, stiff body came from the finest corks, popsicle sticks, and hot glue the Craft Center had to offer.
In light of this campus tragedy, we should all be reminded that, some day, we will all go into that good night, hamster and human alike. Death waits for us all.
Bowdoin Counseling Services are available to all students affected by this tragedy.
