[Gpdd] [Silly] (?) The Messenger (rewrite)

[Algernon07 at aol.com]

Hello Fellow Piggies and Slaves,
       I'm Wilson, one of "The Three Jolly Rodents."  
       I couldn't sleep tonight so I crept out of bed and made my way up 
here. I don't like heights much, but this is important to me because I suddenly 
know the job that I am meant to apply for at Cape Alava and I'd better be quick 
at getting my application in now. I am meant to be a special kind of 
messenger.

       I didn't feel particularly jolly tonight, not even with the excitement 
of the great celebration just two days away. Truthfully, I haven't felt jolly 
for the past couple nights. 
       But now I know that what I need, need even more than a pile of fresh 
hay, or a bowl of crispy vegetables. I need to be able to share some very 
important information with the little lost piggies people have been talking about 
lately and which have been mourned here -- my fellow guinea pigs on the other 
side of the rainbow bridge.
       It seem like this came up all at once but it really didn't. I've been 
thinking and thinking about those neglected and abused cavies.
       I've been thinking about all the guinea pigs who have crossed the 
bridge actually -- some easily, some with great difficulty.
       So with all this excitement going on I feel some sadness but I'm 
especially sad for the piggies who never had a Slave or owner or even a human 
friend. There are former lab piggies there not to mention piggies who have been 
sick or hurt and no one ever cared or tried to help them. These piggies have 
never known caring or compassion or comfort. No one ever handed them a bite of 
carrot or let them nibble a fresh slice of apple. 
       And they don't know, even now, that there are people who DO care for 
them, who care very much. That people aren't all unfeeling and indifferent.
      It was as I lay all curled up in my special little fleece bed that my 
special job came to me. I finally knew what I was supposed to do at the 
celebration. I suddenly knew my special job.
       I am meant to be there to talk with those piggies who had such sad 
lives.
       
       I guess I need to tell you a little bit about my own life so that you 
might understand why I feel that I am not only specially suited for this job 
but that it's actually something that I feel called to do.
       My job at the Celebration is to cross the bridge (Not permanently, 
please, not yet) and meet with and mingle with what Debbie called "the little 
waifs" whose lives were never fulfilled. 
       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), or offer me to strangers 
via an ad in a newspaper, 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 and didn't flail their arms and legs in all directions. 
(But I couldn't help it that I did such things. I tried not to.) 
       Anyway, several people wanted one or both of them. 
       But first we were taken out to town to visit "someone special."
       It was my beautiful tri-colored sister who was originally presented to 
my reluctant soon-to-be-new-mom (who said she didn't want a pet) as "company" 
for her and as a gift. My mom doesn't always tell the whole story, but only 
because it grows lengthy. 
     But back to me. 
       I was scared of what was really going to happen to me. 
And that's part of why 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. 
      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 exactly what I'll say. But I just have to go visit with 
those 
piggies.
       See, something real strange happened to me, some little twist a fate. 
       As I said, it was my sister who was left with the person who was to 
become my owner. 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). But 
everyone thought she'd be perfect for my now and always owner.
      I knew the person who is now my Mom 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. But let me get to that part.
     
       My original litter-owner had to leave to get back home and thought 
things were settled in the very best way so 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 eyes 
for grooming but I was trying to hide tears. No one really wanted me.
     Then guess what. 
     A car came to our house and my sister's new owner came up to the door 
carrying my sister in a little box. Everyone seemed startled and surprised. 
       My owner said, "So you really don't want a guinea pig, after all, huh? 

       "Did we pressure you?" she continued, and apologized. 
     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 secretly 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. But that in some 
mysterious way they belong to all of us and they are very much loved.
       I don't have any real credentials and this isn't a true a resume, I 
know, but I am most qualified for position of "the messenger." The bearer of 
hope and promise that even as fulfilled as they are now, on the other side of 
the Rainbow Bridge, that even further fulfillement is to eventually appear for 
each of them. 
       Debbie, who is living in France, would understand this. I will offer 
her as a reference, if she will be so kind, and also ask that she validate the 
need for a special messager piggy to reach out even greater promise to even 
"the least of them" at the time of this grand and historic occasion.

 
Wilson, son of Alge