Yes, all of this.

The absolute worst for me was our beautiful Templeton. He was Wilbur's brother. We introduced them to Nac, Mac, and Feegle the way you're supposed to and everything went perfectly. Until it didn't.

We still don't really know what happened, but what was clear was that there was a squabble, someone lashed out, Templeton ended up getting slashed across his balls. Rushed him to the vet, who said that pretty much all they could do was castrate him. So we did that, picked him up the following day and put him in a small carrier on his own to recuperate while we went out to get a small cage for him to live in while he healed.

While we were out, he had apparently been jumping about, trying to figure out how to get out, and he burst his stitches. By the time we got back and realised what had happened it was too late. Things that should have been in were out and we had another rush to the vet. All they could was put him out pain, and my last memory of him was him looking kinda scared at me as he was taken away.

That was almost two years ago, and it still hurts like hell, because it feels like there was so much we could have/should have done differently. The poor little guy was only 6 months old, and was the absolute sweetest boy. He'd run up my arm when I opened the cage, and happily sit on my shoulder eating cheerios. None of the others did that of their own accord.

I still miss that little fella.

Only a few days later, our remaining cat got hit by a car. That week was complete shit.