Everyone knows about those one in a thousand pets. Amelia was one in five thousand, if not more. In the sea of ratlets, Amelia stood out, and was one of the first to be named, after Earhart, because she was a precocious explorer from the start. Amelia was also a people rat, she loved people, being with them, going for rides, facehugging, running to them…one of Rick’s favourite memories is of a young Amelia, running about the studio, and he called her, she turned and barreled straight for him, leaping into his waiting hands. Amelia was possessive of us, and made sure she got more time than anyone else.
I called Amelia my little facehugger because she was a facehugger. From a young age, she would climb up on the bed (always waiting until I was asleep), climb on top of my face, with her tail falling across my mouth (and in more than one instance, in my mouth) and lay there to nap. She never got over that habit. Fortunately, she was a benign facehugger. Amelia also took exceptional care of me.
I can’t do justice to Amelia. She was wicked smart, curious, always wanting to explore, fearless, and devastatingly affectionate. Amelia had been fighting a respiratory disease for months, and stopped responding to medication. She could barely breathe, so it was time. Amelia did not go gentle into that good night, she raged against the dying of the light.
I administered overdose drugs on the evening of October 13th. She actively fought them, and refused to close her eyes, and she would not be parted from me. Amelia was laying on my lap, trying to clean herself when she took her last breath, at 11:11 p.m., October 13th, and she never closed her eyes. I can’t even begin to express how very much she will be missed – Amelia was the smartest, very best facehugger in any ‘verse, and without her, I am left to dance on the razor edge of grief. I miss you, Amelia.
This is the last photo I took of Amelia: