[Gpdd] [Silly] (?) The Messenger

[Algernon07 at aol.com]

Hello Fellow Piggies and Slaves,
       I'm Wilson. Some of you know about me. Some good and some bad. 
     There have been things said about guinea pigs from the other side of the 
bridge being at Cape Alava. This has confused me. Is it true? Are these just 
the pigs from the list? That would seem reasonable, I guess, since they 
contributed to the crossing of the country, and yet won't it be extremely difficult 
emotionally for the pigs and their people. It would involve second partings. 
But that's not my decision to make.
      The piggies who have never been cared for or loved have been on my mind 
a lot, especially as I snuggle in my little fleece bed these last few nights, 
particularly since Debbie and others have written about them.
       For my job at the Celebration, I am willing to cross the bridge (Not 
permanently please) and meet with what Debbie called "the little waifs" or the 
little "groups of waifs."
       I was fortunate that I was born into a home, in another city, that 
wouldn't have cast me out to a pet shop (I don't think), but the truth is, I was 
the piggy that no one really wanted. My brother and sister were bigger, more 
colorful -- they weren't scared and timid the way I was. They didn't shriek and 
try to bite the air when they were picked up. Several people wanted them. It 
was my beautiful sister who was really presented to my reluctant slave as 
"company" for her and as a gift. She doesn't always tell the whole story, but only 
because it grows lengthy. Also, she didn't want a "pet."
       But back to me. I was scared of what was really going to happen to me. 
And I'd like to talk to some of those other poor piggies. They weren't bad 
piggies. They didn't deserve the bad things that happened to them. They just 
weren't as blessed as some others. And I've been very blessed, too. I know no 
reasons, but I hear the TV and I hear my slave and other people talk and I 
listen. I know there is great sadness as well as happiness everywhere in the world.
    I'm just a small for my age -- and always was -- kind of insignificant 
guinea pig that doesn't know these heavy things about life or understand why 
things are like they are, for piggies, for people, for anything. I don't 
understand the seeming randomness of situations and circumstances. Why is life heaven 
for one piggy and hell for another?
       I don't know what I'd say. I'd just like to go visit with those 
piggies.
       See, something real strange happened to me. As I said, it was my 
sister who was left with my slave. She (my sister) had been handled regularly from 
birth (and is now living a good life just down the street from where she was 
born). Everyone thought she'd be perfect for my slave.
       I knew the person who is now my slave seemed to pay some attention to 
me, but I thought it was just because I wasn't like the other two. I was 
somehow different. I was not a piggy that someone would want.
       But do you know what? I was chosen. Me. 
       My sister was left with my slave. My sister was beautiful and 
mannerly. Enchanting. She liked to cuddle. She was different from me. My original 
owner had to leave and thought things were settled in the very best way as we all 
headed back to our city.
       Back at my "birth home," it was decided where my brother would go, but 
I sadly understood that placing me was going to be a bit of a problem. I 
pretended to be cleaning my face with the wetness that comes from our little eyes 
for grooming but I was trying to hide my tears. No one really wanted me.
       Then guess what. 
      Not too much later a car came to our house and my sister's new owner 
came up to the door carrying my sister in a little box and dragging an oxygen 
tank. Everyone seemed real surprised. My owner said, "So you decided you really 
don't want a guinea pig, after all, huh? We did pressure you. Sorry."
       My slave listened, sort of smiled and shook her head no.
       She extended the box with my sister in it and said, "I came for MY 
guinea pig. That adorable" (adorable? apparently she wanted my brother -- 
everyone said he was "adorable" too) "little black" (black?? that was me!!) "guy. He 
is the pig I want. I wanted to get here before someone laid claim to him. I 
should have never let you left my house with him.He's the little guinea pig I 
wanted.
       So there I was, three wheeeks old, scared but seceretly thrilled too. 
I had been chosen. Me, the least likely to have been picked at all and I was 
picked first.
       Someone had made a hundred and sixty mile round trip just to get me.
       I don't know what I'll say to those poor never-loved piggies on the 
other side of the bridge, but I think I understand things that many piggies 
don't. Maybe I'll just tell them how much we care about them and help them to know 
that we all love them. That fate just never gave them the opportunity to meet 
the person they'd love most and who'd love them most. So they belong to all 
of us and they are very much loved.
       I don't have any real credentials and this isn't like a resume, I 
know, but I would like to be considered for the position of "the messenger."

                                                                   To Be 
Continued...

Wilson, son of Alge