aredgrave90
Junior Guinea Pig
- Joined
- May 13, 2020
- Messages
- 70
- Reaction score
- 100
- Points
- 250
Elena,
I can still remember the day that you arrived. It was a sunny day in late spring, early on during Covid. You were huddled together nervously in a carry case with your sister. I was so excited to meet you!
I knew that you had had a bad start in life. The Blue Cross had rescued you from a hoarding situation. There had been upwards of 50 guinea pigs running loose in a property, and you and Tracy were among the youngest. The pair of you were underweight and riddled with ringworm. Your foster parents rehabilitated you. I still have the letter that your foster mother sent to me - both she and her husband adored you.
You were both skittish at first, but I was happy to be patient. I spent hours sat outside on the patio with you. I tempted you out of your bedroom with your favourite treats - Tracy had a sweet tooth, but spinach was always your favourite. In all of the early pictures that I have of you, you are munching on spinach leaves frantically!
Tracy was the first to take food from my hand - for a while, you would only stick your nose out of the bedroom. It didn't take long, however, until both of you learned your names, and you began to come, in turn, when I called them. You were also quick to recognise the rustling of bags, the sound of my voice, my footsteps. You would wheek in anticipation, knowing that treats were coming - your little lungs would bellow urgently!
The pair of you were uncertain the first few times in your play pen. You would both run and hide in your red, extendable tunnel. More than once, you both got stuck in the middle, with one bottom stuck out of either end of it! In time, you grew more comfortable, and you would popcorn and zoom around it. You were never one to exercise much, though, to be honest. Your absolute favourite spot was a seagrass hidey. I would take it out of the play pen for an hour at a time, to try and encourage you not to be lazy. Whenever I asked you if you wanted your house, you would stand up on your back legs to look for it. At that point, of course, I would always cave in, and end up giving it back to you.
You and Tracy were inseparable back then, though both of you could be sneaky! Tracy would use her bottom to trap you in your bedroom whenever I came out with vegetables. You would nudge her back end to move her along, and on one memorable day, she peed on you! Meanwhile, Tracy liked to burrow and nest - you, on the other hand, much preferred resting. You would allow your sister to construct a spot to sleep in, then amble right along and throw her out of it!
We lost Tracy to surgery for ovarian cysts. I truly hadn't expected it. I cried when I came to collect you, on your own, from the vets. You looked lost without your sister beside you.
It was around two weeks before I found you a new companion. During that time, the two of us bonded closely. You helped me to work through my grief over Tracy, and I found that you needed my company. I spent my time working on the laptop by your hutch, talking to you, treating you, and always interacting. As soon as you heard me coming, you emerged from your bedroom, and you found new ways to attract my attention. You would lift up your toys, flip them over, and chew on them loudly while staring straight at me. I would praise you and tell you how clever you were. You loved to be praised, so you did it more often!
On one occasion, you managed to grab the table cloth, thread it into the hutch, and chew a series of holes in it! Chewing was your absolute favourite thing, so I tried to give you plenty of opportunity to do it. I would stuff hay into egg cartons and cardboard tubes, or give you balls of paper with vegetables hidden inside them. You would nose around for the food, eat the best bits, and then entertain yourself by shredding the paper up afterwards.
In the mornings and evenings, I would sit you on my knee, or up on my chest, and feed you treats. You would lie down on your side and have a doze, becoming more and more relaxed about the contact with me. When I left you at the rescue to find a new cagemate, I was as nervous as a parent on their child's first day at school! Thankfully, they phoned within a couple of days, to tell me that you had made friends with a guinea pig called Annie.
I use the term 'friend' loosely here (!), though you did seem pleased to have another pig for company. Annie was, admittedly, a trial to you at times, and I think I found her quirks more endearing than you did! Annie had also come from a hoarding situation, but unlike you and Tracy, she was older when she escaped it. She was especially scrappy when it came to sharing food. She would climb all over you to get to me before you did. It took a few weeks for things to settle down - the rumblestrutting and chasing had begun to drive me crazy!
As you spent more time with Annie, observing the things that she did, you soon began to copy. You had always turned your nose up at slices of pepper before - but only until the day that you saw Annie eat it! When Annie heard me coming, she would stand up on her back legs, place her paws on the mesh door, and rattle it with her teeth. You began to do the same, but you never quite got the hang of it - instead, you would chew the mesh ever so gently. The two of you were totally different personalities - Annie was bold and noisy, you were much more placid. While Annie would seize a treat out of my hand with gusto, you were always careful to take things from me delicately. When I left the treats in your hutch, that was a different story - you would snatch them up, raise your head high, and run off with your prize triumphantly!
It soon became clear that, as scrappy as she was, Annie was a very sickly piggie. I believe that this was due to a lifetime of improper care - whole months began to feel like a whirlwind of vet trips. During this time, the two of you started to fight, and one day, Annie bit your nose and scarred it. I decided to put you in adjoining set-ups, to give you both the peace that I felt you needed. In Annie's final months, which came far too soon, I managed her pain until I knew that she was ready. I gave her the best 24 hours that I could. Then I decided that it was time to bring an end to all her struggling.
I watched as you grew older over a matter of months. There were strands of grey in your fur. You developed arthritis. At first, medication relieved your symptoms, and thankfully, there were still some good times left to us. I brought you indoors full-time, and I would leave your hutch door open, so you could sit and munch hay and watch all the comings and goings. You became more placid and gentle (though you never stopped being stubborn!), comfortable with yourself and with everyone around you. You loved to touch your nose to mine, or else to the tip of my finger. Above all, you enjoyed being being spoken to and petted. You seemed calm, secure and peaceful.
If I had known that we were entering your final days, I would have done everything differently. I would have focused on you and you alone, and given you 24 wonderful hours. If things hadn't been so hectic, if they hadn't been so busy, perhaps I would have been quicker to understand what was happening. I knew that you weren't yourself. I had booked you into the vets. In the end, you never made it to the day of the appointment.
The only consolation that I have in this moment is that I was able to keep things peaceful in your final hours. I tried and gave up on syringe feed. I called the vet in the evening.
When I took you to see the vet, you were as calm as ever. I held it together, stroked you, and spoke to you gently. I told you, in the same voice I have always used, that you were a good girl. That you were beautiful. That you were ever so special to me. When the vet confirmed my fears, I was ready to make the decision that I knew would prevent you from any further suffering. I was able to sit and and speak to you as you slipped away. I hope that you could hear me.
People keep saying that you went downhill quickly. To some extent, that is true. I will never stop feeling that I failed you, though, and I am totally and utterly bereft without you.
You have been my constant companion for five long years - five years when so much else has fallen apart around me. I could never have done it without you, and having you to love and care for - I owe you much more than I could ever have given back to you.
You have gone on ahead of me, now. I hope that you are with Tracy. Perhaps you are even enjoying Annie's company. Human souls, animal souls... it's all the same. Hopefully, one day, I will be reunited with all of you.
I love you so much little one. I hope and believe you knew.
I can still remember the day that you arrived. It was a sunny day in late spring, early on during Covid. You were huddled together nervously in a carry case with your sister. I was so excited to meet you!
I knew that you had had a bad start in life. The Blue Cross had rescued you from a hoarding situation. There had been upwards of 50 guinea pigs running loose in a property, and you and Tracy were among the youngest. The pair of you were underweight and riddled with ringworm. Your foster parents rehabilitated you. I still have the letter that your foster mother sent to me - both she and her husband adored you.
You were both skittish at first, but I was happy to be patient. I spent hours sat outside on the patio with you. I tempted you out of your bedroom with your favourite treats - Tracy had a sweet tooth, but spinach was always your favourite. In all of the early pictures that I have of you, you are munching on spinach leaves frantically!
Tracy was the first to take food from my hand - for a while, you would only stick your nose out of the bedroom. It didn't take long, however, until both of you learned your names, and you began to come, in turn, when I called them. You were also quick to recognise the rustling of bags, the sound of my voice, my footsteps. You would wheek in anticipation, knowing that treats were coming - your little lungs would bellow urgently!
The pair of you were uncertain the first few times in your play pen. You would both run and hide in your red, extendable tunnel. More than once, you both got stuck in the middle, with one bottom stuck out of either end of it! In time, you grew more comfortable, and you would popcorn and zoom around it. You were never one to exercise much, though, to be honest. Your absolute favourite spot was a seagrass hidey. I would take it out of the play pen for an hour at a time, to try and encourage you not to be lazy. Whenever I asked you if you wanted your house, you would stand up on your back legs to look for it. At that point, of course, I would always cave in, and end up giving it back to you.
You and Tracy were inseparable back then, though both of you could be sneaky! Tracy would use her bottom to trap you in your bedroom whenever I came out with vegetables. You would nudge her back end to move her along, and on one memorable day, she peed on you! Meanwhile, Tracy liked to burrow and nest - you, on the other hand, much preferred resting. You would allow your sister to construct a spot to sleep in, then amble right along and throw her out of it!
We lost Tracy to surgery for ovarian cysts. I truly hadn't expected it. I cried when I came to collect you, on your own, from the vets. You looked lost without your sister beside you.
It was around two weeks before I found you a new companion. During that time, the two of us bonded closely. You helped me to work through my grief over Tracy, and I found that you needed my company. I spent my time working on the laptop by your hutch, talking to you, treating you, and always interacting. As soon as you heard me coming, you emerged from your bedroom, and you found new ways to attract my attention. You would lift up your toys, flip them over, and chew on them loudly while staring straight at me. I would praise you and tell you how clever you were. You loved to be praised, so you did it more often!
On one occasion, you managed to grab the table cloth, thread it into the hutch, and chew a series of holes in it! Chewing was your absolute favourite thing, so I tried to give you plenty of opportunity to do it. I would stuff hay into egg cartons and cardboard tubes, or give you balls of paper with vegetables hidden inside them. You would nose around for the food, eat the best bits, and then entertain yourself by shredding the paper up afterwards.
In the mornings and evenings, I would sit you on my knee, or up on my chest, and feed you treats. You would lie down on your side and have a doze, becoming more and more relaxed about the contact with me. When I left you at the rescue to find a new cagemate, I was as nervous as a parent on their child's first day at school! Thankfully, they phoned within a couple of days, to tell me that you had made friends with a guinea pig called Annie.
I use the term 'friend' loosely here (!), though you did seem pleased to have another pig for company. Annie was, admittedly, a trial to you at times, and I think I found her quirks more endearing than you did! Annie had also come from a hoarding situation, but unlike you and Tracy, she was older when she escaped it. She was especially scrappy when it came to sharing food. She would climb all over you to get to me before you did. It took a few weeks for things to settle down - the rumblestrutting and chasing had begun to drive me crazy!
As you spent more time with Annie, observing the things that she did, you soon began to copy. You had always turned your nose up at slices of pepper before - but only until the day that you saw Annie eat it! When Annie heard me coming, she would stand up on her back legs, place her paws on the mesh door, and rattle it with her teeth. You began to do the same, but you never quite got the hang of it - instead, you would chew the mesh ever so gently. The two of you were totally different personalities - Annie was bold and noisy, you were much more placid. While Annie would seize a treat out of my hand with gusto, you were always careful to take things from me delicately. When I left the treats in your hutch, that was a different story - you would snatch them up, raise your head high, and run off with your prize triumphantly!
It soon became clear that, as scrappy as she was, Annie was a very sickly piggie. I believe that this was due to a lifetime of improper care - whole months began to feel like a whirlwind of vet trips. During this time, the two of you started to fight, and one day, Annie bit your nose and scarred it. I decided to put you in adjoining set-ups, to give you both the peace that I felt you needed. In Annie's final months, which came far too soon, I managed her pain until I knew that she was ready. I gave her the best 24 hours that I could. Then I decided that it was time to bring an end to all her struggling.
I watched as you grew older over a matter of months. There were strands of grey in your fur. You developed arthritis. At first, medication relieved your symptoms, and thankfully, there were still some good times left to us. I brought you indoors full-time, and I would leave your hutch door open, so you could sit and munch hay and watch all the comings and goings. You became more placid and gentle (though you never stopped being stubborn!), comfortable with yourself and with everyone around you. You loved to touch your nose to mine, or else to the tip of my finger. Above all, you enjoyed being being spoken to and petted. You seemed calm, secure and peaceful.
If I had known that we were entering your final days, I would have done everything differently. I would have focused on you and you alone, and given you 24 wonderful hours. If things hadn't been so hectic, if they hadn't been so busy, perhaps I would have been quicker to understand what was happening. I knew that you weren't yourself. I had booked you into the vets. In the end, you never made it to the day of the appointment.
The only consolation that I have in this moment is that I was able to keep things peaceful in your final hours. I tried and gave up on syringe feed. I called the vet in the evening.
When I took you to see the vet, you were as calm as ever. I held it together, stroked you, and spoke to you gently. I told you, in the same voice I have always used, that you were a good girl. That you were beautiful. That you were ever so special to me. When the vet confirmed my fears, I was ready to make the decision that I knew would prevent you from any further suffering. I was able to sit and and speak to you as you slipped away. I hope that you could hear me.
People keep saying that you went downhill quickly. To some extent, that is true. I will never stop feeling that I failed you, though, and I am totally and utterly bereft without you.
You have been my constant companion for five long years - five years when so much else has fallen apart around me. I could never have done it without you, and having you to love and care for - I owe you much more than I could ever have given back to you.
You have gone on ahead of me, now. I hope that you are with Tracy. Perhaps you are even enjoying Annie's company. Human souls, animal souls... it's all the same. Hopefully, one day, I will be reunited with all of you.
I love you so much little one. I hope and believe you knew.
x
