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Clay and I had been married for five months when I decided what we needed was a pet. Pet ownership would help us to become responsible adults and pave the way for parenthood. The question was, were we dog people or cat people? I was working at a pet store at the time, and I had been trying several animals on for size. After asking the opinion of our customers, I was bombarded with harrowing tales of demolished furniture, ruined carpet, flea infestations, incessant barking, feline vendettas, and even chewed vinyl siding. After considering the sage advice of many pet parents and a vet, and after taking care of our store’s mascot, Tweek, it became clear that a guinea pig was the pet for us.
Clay was nervous. Not only did he worry that I would become one of those crazy animal collectors, he’d never been entrusted with the care and upbringing of a living creature. But we prepared a home for our newest addition and welcomed home Chandelier when she was merely three and a half weeks old. She was a dinky little thing who loved to express herself. The trouble was that we didn’t yet speak Guinea Pig. When she was happy, she would bounce, roll, and squeak. When she was irritated, she would emit a low rattle. I would work myself into hysterics when she did the first and become delighted when she did the second. Soon I straightened out my communication skills, and we became fast friends.
Chandy didn’t stay dinky for long. Four months later when we brought home her little brother Satchmo, Chandy was a full-grown lady pig. She had a tremendous appetite and would devour her goodies quickly lest we decide to take them away from her. She was spunky, mischievous and chubby. There was never a pig who brought more joy into a home. There was never a pig who was loved more than our Chandy.
About a month ago, Chandy became mysteriously ill. Our devoted vet ran several tests but never could discover what was ailing her. Clay and I remained optimistic and were sure that she, like Satchmo who had been sick earlier this year, would soon recover and be restored to her former health. We began medicating and syringe feeding her, but in spite of our efforts, her health declined rapidly. After a valiant struggle, Chandy passed away on Sunday night. We buried her at my parents’ home in a quiet field under a row of trees.
Clay and I are heartbroken. We feel like we lost her twice. We lost fat and sassy Chandy, and we lost thin and needy Chandy, whom we had come to love so tenderly. We mourned at first because she had been so sick and pitiful, and watching her die was excruciating. We mourn now because we miss her so much and we know we can’t see her anymore, at least not in this life. We have been in a fog, and we are not ourselves. We never knew we could love one little guinea pig so much. But she was worth it all. She was worth the vet bills. She was worth the extra time and attention. She was worth the grief. She has made us responsible adults and paved the way for parenthood. She has proven to me that my husband is going to be a gentle and compassionate father to our baby. She has made us better than we were.
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