[Gpdd] [RAINBOW BRIDGE] Chestnut has gone to The Bridge
DebJonSara at aol.com
DebJonSara at aol.com
Tue Aug 23 16:31:49 EDT 2005
I have been suffering health problems myself since last November, and my
piggies' company really got me through a tough winter, where I spent my days
lying in the porch with them running around making their lovely soothing piggie
sounds, occasionally picking one up for a cuddle. When summer came they moved
outside, and all was fine until I became ill again and needed surgery. We did
get some volunteers in to help us with our animals in exchange for board and
lodging, but Pete, my partner, trained them up, and he just taught the
basics. I suppose you can't really teach the love. My piggies have been fed and
watered and cleaned out - but not really talked to and cuddled and sung to like
I would.
On Saturday afternoon I came home from a week long hospital stay, with
strict instructions to keep my feet up. Sunday morning Pete brought Chestnut in to
me, saying she "didn't seem well". It felt to me as though she'd lost weight,
so I asked him to bring me our scales, but whilst he was fetching them she
ran up and down my body a couple of times then burrowed her face in the skirt
around my waist and died.
I was devastated, of course. The scales confirmed that she had lost about
65g since 19th June, when I last weighed her - nothing too dramatic, and maybe I
wouldn't have worried too much if I had still been weighing her regularly.
Before I'd gone into hospital, there had been no significant change that I'd
noticed in her behaviour. I had noticed she seemed to have claimed one
particular spot in the run as her own, but that was par for the course.
I had always considered Chestnut as our most aristocratic pig. She was one
of ten teenagers we rescued in January 2003 from the unscrupulous breeder that
eventually became known as "That Crocodile Woman" on this digest because she
sold her surplus stock to a local reptilarium we rehome 45 from her
eventually. She was one of the first piggies to be rehome, which amazed me, as in my
opinion she was far from the prettiest. Her fur then was short and sleek, and
she was basically plain white, with a head that looked as though it had been
dunked in a black inkwell and a black butt that made it look permanently
dirty. The little girl came ready-armed with the name Chestnut, and there were
others that looked a lot more like a chestnut than this white thing with the
black head, but that was the one she chose.
Well, Chestnut grew up to be a beautiful Peruvian, not unlike our recently
departed Snickers, and we used to mind her when her family went away on
holiday. Somehow I got to call her Lady Chessington, because she always seemed such
a superior piggie somehow. She was the only one who regularly had a shampoo
and trim, an she was always impeccably behaved during this process - so
patient and accepting. Amongst the other piggies, she always conducted herself like
the lady she was. I never once saw her headbutt any of the others, or nip,
or indeed even tooth rattle. It always seemed she was above all that. She
always seemed graceful and serene. She love her food, and was a bit on the tubby
side, and when I put out 4 dishes of greens, she would always be first to
find the furthest away and start tucking voraciously into that before the others
got there!
Just over a year ago Chestnut's family move away to a place with no garden,
and the children refused to let the piggies go anywhere but here. I already
had 12 piggies of my own, but how could I refuse, as all 6 of theirs had
originally been rescues of mine? So Chestnut moved in, along with cagemates
Scarecrow, Scruff and Cherry, and the boys, Scrabble and Fidget. You may remember I
lost Scruff to what I think was bloat back in November 2004 - just when my
own illness had been diagnosed.
I have no idea at all why Lady Chessington died. When Scruff died, I was
told the regional laboratory had never performed an autopsy on a guinea pig, so
I feel that is not an option. I inspected her body all over; her teeth looked
fine, there were no unexplained lumps or bumps, no sign of injury or disease.
She can't have been more than 2 1/2 years old - just a byoungster in piggie
terms. I will always wonder whether I might have saved her had I not been in
hospital. I'll never know. I'm still supposed to be on bedrest, but I did
sneak out to see all the others today. They look okay, but I can't bend down to
pick them up, nor to pick grass for them. It made me cry to see them,
actually. They must feel like I've abandonned them. I worried which would be the
next to break my heart. Roll on the day I'm up and about again and can commune
with them as usual again. They need weighing and their claws clipping ... but
I can't really trust anyone else.
When I said good-bye to Chestnut, I told her to have fun in that sun-filled
meadow with Scruff, Poivre, Bafreur, Vanilla, Etoile, Orson, Cayenne, Huppe,
Etincelle and of course my beloved Cherub. I force myself to believe that I
will get to see them all again at The Rainbow Bridge, but the knowledge never
seems to make the pain of separation any easier to bear, does it?
I send condolences to all who have recently lost piggies - only we on the
gpdd really understand.
Apologies for any typos - I'm typing this lying down and can scarcely see
the keyboard.
Debbie and the Dolly Mixtures in rural France
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