... since I had to let you go to the Rainbow Bridge, Minx.
Cheekiest of ladies, fearless explorer extraordinaire and surprise mum, life with you was a constant adventure!
Starting to jump up the stairs 10 days before giving birth, sneaking into the fridge when hub was dithering over his lunch, raiding the veg rack, levering out toilet brushes, toppling flower vases and and climbing into flower pots, gnawing on slippers, pulling radiator valve insulation thread, creating messes with tissues and tissue boxes, removing whole rose bush branches in the way of your annually renewed border length race course, making the poor frogs in our tiny frog pond go splash splash splash when you raced by (repeatedly, because it was such fun!), getting trapped in covered seed trays and nearly sucked into running hoovers... you ruled and explored the whole house and garden!
You turned me red-faced having to explain to a gasman that the cardboard barrier on the stairs was there to piggy-proof them and you caused a builder to nearly fall off the roof watching you race back out of the flower border straight into the run when I shouted "cucumber" - he'd thought I was just pulling his leg until you'd showed him. You forced me to carry you outside into the snow before you'd believe that today was really NOT a day for having your usual daily or even three times daily (supervised) garden roam. And then the bad weather was of course MY fault!
At the vets you'd have the whole full waiting room staring in awe at you sitting on top of your hut boldly facing down five frightened cats (you'd draw the line at dogs, though). You loved to sit outside or watch the world go by on a car journey. It was an honour for your little companion Mischief - always desperately scrambling after you - to be finally allowed to sleep on top of your new hut the way you always did. My hub had to adapt your cage for your love of the "high life"!
Wherever I went in the house or garden, you'd inevitably turn up sooner or later to make sure that you were not missing out on anything interesting. You knew the daily routine and loved to anticipate it. You thrived on figuring out a new challenge or having a romp through the garden, followed by a nap in the border (preferably where it took your mum ages to find you!)
You were the one who looked me straight into the eye with your large sad eyes in the garden centre and disrupted my dreams so badly that my exasperated and very tired hub went and bought you for me together with your little friend Mischief, just to get some sleep! Then you promptly presented me with an unplanned pair of delightful babies a few weeks later, right in the middle of a major family health crisis which meant that I couldn't keep them.
You were the one who got me back into guinea pigs by capturing my heart and holding it to ransom from the moment our eyes crossed.
I still miss you like mad, my little larger-than-life friend. Those all too short three years with you were a true blessing as you have enriched my life so much and have ultimately given it a new direction.
I have indulged myself this summer in adopting two not-quite-lookalikes that happened to come my way, Beryn and Barri, in yours and Missy's memory. They bring back some precious forgotten little memories of you in the way they walk, move and look at me. I am sure that you are keeping an eye out for them and are having quite few wheeks to say over how they are getting on down here...
Getting trapped in the seed tray
(please wait for more pictures!)
Cheekiest of ladies, fearless explorer extraordinaire and surprise mum, life with you was a constant adventure!
Starting to jump up the stairs 10 days before giving birth, sneaking into the fridge when hub was dithering over his lunch, raiding the veg rack, levering out toilet brushes, toppling flower vases and and climbing into flower pots, gnawing on slippers, pulling radiator valve insulation thread, creating messes with tissues and tissue boxes, removing whole rose bush branches in the way of your annually renewed border length race course, making the poor frogs in our tiny frog pond go splash splash splash when you raced by (repeatedly, because it was such fun!), getting trapped in covered seed trays and nearly sucked into running hoovers... you ruled and explored the whole house and garden!
You turned me red-faced having to explain to a gasman that the cardboard barrier on the stairs was there to piggy-proof them and you caused a builder to nearly fall off the roof watching you race back out of the flower border straight into the run when I shouted "cucumber" - he'd thought I was just pulling his leg until you'd showed him. You forced me to carry you outside into the snow before you'd believe that today was really NOT a day for having your usual daily or even three times daily (supervised) garden roam. And then the bad weather was of course MY fault!
At the vets you'd have the whole full waiting room staring in awe at you sitting on top of your hut boldly facing down five frightened cats (you'd draw the line at dogs, though). You loved to sit outside or watch the world go by on a car journey. It was an honour for your little companion Mischief - always desperately scrambling after you - to be finally allowed to sleep on top of your new hut the way you always did. My hub had to adapt your cage for your love of the "high life"!
Wherever I went in the house or garden, you'd inevitably turn up sooner or later to make sure that you were not missing out on anything interesting. You knew the daily routine and loved to anticipate it. You thrived on figuring out a new challenge or having a romp through the garden, followed by a nap in the border (preferably where it took your mum ages to find you!)
You were the one who looked me straight into the eye with your large sad eyes in the garden centre and disrupted my dreams so badly that my exasperated and very tired hub went and bought you for me together with your little friend Mischief, just to get some sleep! Then you promptly presented me with an unplanned pair of delightful babies a few weeks later, right in the middle of a major family health crisis which meant that I couldn't keep them.
You were the one who got me back into guinea pigs by capturing my heart and holding it to ransom from the moment our eyes crossed.
I still miss you like mad, my little larger-than-life friend. Those all too short three years with you were a true blessing as you have enriched my life so much and have ultimately given it a new direction.
I have indulged myself this summer in adopting two not-quite-lookalikes that happened to come my way, Beryn and Barri, in yours and Missy's memory. They bring back some precious forgotten little memories of you in the way they walk, move and look at me. I am sure that you are keeping an eye out for them and are having quite few wheeks to say over how they are getting on down here...
Getting trapped in the seed tray
(please wait for more pictures!)
......very special and funny memories...
