[Gpdd] RAINBOW BRIDGE: my tribute to Sunshine

[Cindy]

A tribute to Sunshine (adopted Aug. 28, 2004; passed away Dec. 6, 2007):

Sunshine was just like his name: bright and happy and a sweetheart.  He 
had a white crest and a cream-colored body.  Actually he looked just 
like a Twinkie; however, he was anything but. 

Sunshine was one of the Maryland rescue piggies back in 2004.  He was 
found in a garage along with more than 250 other piggies, and I will 
always be thankful to Judi for her rescue efforts and to Judi and 
Virginia (who I don't think is on the Digest) for helping transport him 
to me.  Virginia was kind enough to let me pick him and Tumbleweed up at 
her parents' house, which was about an hour and a half drive from us. 

Sunshine adjusted to our family right away.  In fact, it seemed as if 
he'd always known us.  One day, after he'd first arrived, he and I 
looked at one another, and it suddenly seemed as if we remembered each 
other.  From then on, our bond was always close.

We debated between the names "Sunshine" and "Hamilton" for him.  Besides 
resembling a Twinkie, he looked like Hammy the Hamster from "Once Upon a 
Hamster."  Sometimes he even curled up on the floor and pulled a 
newspaper over his body, like Hammy tucking himself into bed on the 
show.  We ended up calling him Sunshine but using Hammy as a nickname. 

Our Joey G. was still with us then, and we had the daunting, or so we 
expected, task of introducing all of them.  Three boars!  First we 
introduced Sunshine and Tumbleweed, and they quickly became buddies.  A 
few days later, in a neutral spot in our kitchen, we introduced Joey G. 
to them.  A few sniffs, and all were friends.  The introductions were so 
low-key and cordial that Sunshine fell asleep!

Sunshine loved to be combed and immediately became a lap pig.  His 
laptime record is 2 hours and 40 minutes.  Often at night my husband 
would be "first shift," and I would be "second shift."  Sunshine loved 
lying wrapped in a towel as we watched TV or read.  Sometimes he threw 
his head down and gazed up at us with those soulful eyes of his.  He 
could always melt my heart.

When Joey G. passed away <sniff>, Friday came to live with us.  
Unfortunately he did not get along with Sunshine and tried to attack 
him.  Therefore, I had to develop what I called "The Stock Exchange."  
Friday and Tumbleweed would have floortime for a while, then I would put 
Friday back in his cage and give Sunshine floortime with Tumbleweed.  To 
let Sunshine know it was time to get out, I hummed "Reveille."  He 
quickly learned what it meant and climbed up on my arm when I reached 
into his cage.  He then gave a big stretch before I set him on the floor.

Several months ago, Sunshine started doing something new.  During 
floortime, he had a towel with newspapers on top of it.  He began 
pulling up a newspaper to create a tunnel to rest under.  One day he 
placed the newspaper against the sipper tube of his floor water bottle, 
pressed, and stuck the paper on it, making a mask he could drink 
through.  A few days ago, Friday (who had never seen Sunshine make a 
mask and never made one himself) got out for floortime, pulled up the 
paper, and made his own mask.  I had to wonder if he was missing 
Sunshine, or if Sunshine was saying hello to us from the Bridge.

I find I can't write in detail about the bladder stone surgeries and the 
last weeks of Sunshine's life.  However, I will say that after his first 
surgery, when we opened up his carrier, he looked so wan and weak.  Then 
he glanced up, saw me, and blossomed.  His posture became straighter, 
relief and happiness swept across his face, and he totally relaxed.  It 
was like seeing time-lapse photography of a flower blooming.

Sunshine always wore his heart on his sleeve and was my sensitive boy, 
but he had a quiet strength that I only fully grasped when he left us.  
He hardly skipped a beat in his normal routine after his first surgery, 
and even after his second he was still strong and determined.  It was 
only when the stones returned yet again and he also had developed gas 
and pneumonia that we knew we had to help him to the Bridge.  Our vet 
gave him a sedative, and afterwards he leaped into my arms.  With our 
close bond, I often felt I knew what he was thinking, and vice versa, so 
on this horrible day, I think he knew what the sedative meant -- and 
that will always haunt me.  I held him close and cuddled him, and my 
husband and I both talked to him and told him how much we loved him and 
how Joey and many new friends would be there waiting for him at the 
Bridge.  My vet said that the sedative would bring almost immediate pain 
relief, so I am glad that there were some moments on this side of the 
Bridge that Sunshine knew once again what it was to be free of pain.

I love you, Sunshine, my special boy.  Eat anything you want at the 
Bridge -- no stones exist there!

Sadly,
Cindy, Tumbleweed, and Friday, missing Sunshine