During my second year in college, I shared an apartment with a senior. Through his friend, we ended up taking care of a young kinkajou named Pooh. Initially, it was meant to be a temporary arrangement until his friend found a suitable place. However, as time passed, Pooh and I formed an inseparable bond. Pooh was such a delightful and mischievous little creature. (Kinkajous belong to the raccoon family and, despite being carnivores, they have adapted to a fructivorous diet in the treetops during nighttime. Giving Pooh a capful of crème de menthe in the evening would make him a lively entertainer for hours.)

Sadly, after a year, we had to return Pooh. Devastatingly, my roommate later informed me that Pooh had become withdrawn, fallen into depression, and passed away in a short period of time. It was a heartbreaking loss for me.

When I was 13 years old, my younger brother had his heart set on getting a flying squirrel. We found a source that informed us they bonded for life, so my brother bought a pair. We constructed a spacious cage for them, and they appeared happy and affectionate towards my brother.

He spent a lot of time caring for them, but one unfortunate incident occurred when, unintentionally, my brother accidentally stepped on one of the squirrels as he backed away from the cage. The squirrel tragically passed away. Realizing the importance of pair bonds, we immediately contacted the breeder to obtain another companion. However, we were informed that it didn’t work that way. Flying squirrels mate for life, and within a matter of days, the surviving squirrel also passed away.

These experiences taught me the fragility of certain bonds and the profound impact they can have on the lives of these remarkable creatures.