[Gpdd] Announce: Michael has crossed

[Not-In-Keys]

Some may remember last fall when I told Angel’s story when she crossed the Bridge. For those who don’t recall, Angel came to us as the result of a rescue by the Humane Society, and was in a group of 25 piggies that we split between two rescues. Angel, though, had heat prostration and could not travel further, so we adopted her ourselves.

One morning in September of 2000, I came down the stairs at the start of the day in a very, very angry mood. I could have taken on a bear, and possibly survived with only moderately serious injuries (come on, let’s be real. You thought I was going to say I’d beat a bear?) I sat on the sofa, close to Angel’s home, and noticed a couple of things moving under Angel- and realized that she had the babies she was pregnant with!

Needless to say, the day was much brighter immediately, and I was on top of the world. 

Angel presented us with 3 remarkable little boys, Gabriel (looks and acts just like his mom), Pickles (maybe the most handsome little boy I’ve ever seen), and Michael (who must have looked like his dad, who we never identified.) Collectively, we called them Da Boyzzz (one “z” for each Boy.) Gabriel was the one who was always picked on, and being a gentle little boy, we had to move him out on his own.

Michael and Pickles, though, got along well, which is amazing since they both wanted to be the alpha piggie. Michael and Pickles never liked being picked up much. He relented and let me reach in and pet him, but if I held him he’d whimper and whine. I adjusted to the fact that the two of them would never be cuddlers, but that didn’t change how much they meant to me. 

They have sat behind me for the past year, and I’ve spent a lot of time watching them, and getting after Pickles for mounting Michael to try to intimidate him (and it never worked.) Michael was a pretty confident boy, and always gave me the same stares back that Pickles did when I broke up the noisy games when they got too rough. 

These were tough little guys! They always enjoyed a good rumble.

Wednesday night last week, I noticed Michael seemed a bit subdued, but nothing major I could tell. Thursday rolled around, and before I could make the rounds to check out the piggies, my wife called, wanting me to rush over and see the puppy she wanted top adopt from the Humane Society. I checked the waters and food dishes quickly, and left. 

When I came back upstairs late Thursday night, I noticed Michael didn’t move when I tried to give him hay. I looked at him closely, and recognized that look in his eyes. I gently picked him up (and he squeaked in discomfort) and petted him, told him how much I love him, and tried to get water in him and a little something sweet to pick up the energy. It wasn’t easy- he had no interest. I looked closely to check him out, and could see no obvious problems. I held him and petted him for a good while, and noticed his fur was shedding quickly. That was the last sign I needed, and I knew what was ahead. I put him alone in a temporary home, just in case he had something that could spread (a little late, granted.) I fixed up a water bottle, and gently put him to bed at about 1:30 a.m.

When I awoke in the morning, I rushed in to check him, but my little boy had gone. He hadn’t moved from where I had seen him when I dragged myself into bed. He’s the fifth piggie we’ve lost in the past year since we moved here- Dr. Pepper, Angel, Cinder(ella), Evander, and now, Michael. I’m not sure what to believe about God or supreme beings, but I spent a lot of time praying that he wouldn’t have to suffer, and if he couldn’t get better, for him to cross the Bridge without a lot more suffering.  Perhaps my prayers were answered, because he clearly was restful when he left. All were special to us for very different reasons. Michael was the first of Da Boyzzz I noticed, and because they were so important to me that day, I’ve always treasured these boys in a different way. They were born to us in our home, after all.

I miss his dark brown little face, and his look at me like “David… this is how Pickles and I play!” whenever I had to break up a rumble. 

Since Michael left us, Pickles has been more subdued. The little boy who hated to be held, hated to be petted, now lets me pick him up and he leans against my chest as I pet him and let him know he’s still got all of us. I can tell he misses his buddy, but I can’t do anything to help him other than hold him, and let him know we care.

Michael is buried with Evander and Cinder, but like all of the piggies we’ve had, he lives on in our hearts. I’ve often said one of the greatest gifts I could receive would be to be reunited with all my piggies some day. I can’t imagine it being “heaven” if they aren’t there to greet me and tell me all the things they never could here.

Saying goodbye to a piggie is never easy, but I came to realize it’s easier to go through than giving them up. These little ones keep a balance for me in life, and when I needed them the most, Da Boyzzz showed up right at the best time. That will always make them even more special.

Hug your little ones when you read this, and appreciate them for what they bring.

We’re so lucky to know these wonderful little animals.

Michael, I miss you.


David, with Beth, care givers to Treasure, Droopy, Cleo, Nefer, Blizzard, Minuit, Pickles, Gabriel, and Gizmo, along with Pibb the Conure, Camille the cockatiel, and Trixie the puppy. Missing Sienna, Mom Pig, Dad Pig, Elizabeth, Mirage, Arnold, Piggie, Fuzzball, the two mystery piggies, Teddy, Petey, Tony, Evander, Angel, Little Pepper, Dr. Pepper, Cinder, and Michael, and Herbie the Conure




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