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May 26

Requiem for a Guinea Pig

I was going to write this long post about how Eldest fell off her bike after I FORCED her to put her screen down and go play outside. And then she broke her arm. So we had our weekly family-dinner (used to be daily, now it’s weekly) in the triage waiting room of the ER.

And then, Pepper, one of our Guinea Pigs was found early in the morning struggling to breathe. We all knew that sound. The gasping for life sound. We all knew she wouldn’t live. But I couldn’t tell them that. So instead, I rushed Pepper to the 24/7 ER, while petting her in horrible awful city traffic, for almost 40 minutes, listening to her cling to life…. Wanting to smother her just so she would stop hurting, but hoping against hope I would get there and the Vet would say, oh it’s nothing, here is a pill!. Except instead, I paid 37$ to euthanize Pepper. And then I drove around in EFFING city traffic to tell Youngest that Pepper was dead. And we left school and cuddled in bed and cried. Cried for Pepper. But really, cried for all the EFFING – OK, I am not PG – For all the FUCKING shit that always follows us. And then we went to the dollar store and bought a gold box. And I squeezed a very stiff Pepper in there (seriously, rigor mortis in Guinea Pigs is shockingly fast!)

And when afternoon came, I picked up Eldest and told her. And she ugly-cried all the way home. And then the 3 of us dug a hole in the yard and held a ceremony for Pepper, who is now buried in the yard of a house we have no intention of living in for very long. But seeing as clouds of doom loom over us, maybe we should just build a pet-cemetery as there are 3 more living furry creatures….

 

Anyhow, I was going to tell you about all the tears for a fucking Guinea Pig, but then an old Blog-friend, who happens to have also adopted and also be a widow (seriously, I am NOT alone!) sent me a link to this – the only thing that I don’t agree with in my case is that I was willing to look at ugly. I STARED at fucking ugly the entire fucking time. Me. Only me. Nobody else wanted to stare at the ugly fucking truth. But other than that, all of it.

but most of all this: ‘The cure for grief is not “be not sad” and the cure for anger isn’t “be unagry!” It’s feeling all of the things, even the uncomfortable ones, without judging yourself for them.Your job, when bad shit happens, is to get through it however you can. It is not your job to make your life more palatable for other people.’

Too bad it’s too long for a tattoo. In the meantime, RIP Pepper, you were a good pig.