So, as most everyone who knows me is aware of, my last guinea pig Charley died about two weeks ago. Let me tell you, this month has been a blur. I am coming out of a weird period of my life, that is for sure. The guinea pigs were quite like people to me - I actually viewed them as little people with personalities and quirks and interests. Even if they were more of the simple variety - like lettuce, chin rubs, and occasional trips outside the apartment. My biggest worry is people thinking, "Well, they were only guinea pigs." But none of them were - they were friends and family, too - and Charley was especially special. She was my little joy. I am not thinking of her as much, but it still sucks to see her blanket and stuffed toys and realize this little bundle of love is gone. Charley was one of the most affectionate guinea pigs I've ever had in my lifetime of taking care of these animals, which started back when I was in grade school. And she wasn't so much like a
I lost all four of my pigs this summer. All of them. PBC, Smores, Penny, Poppy. To say there isn't a hole in my chest is a lie. I feel their absence constantly. I have a new piggie I bought when PBC passed away weirdly during the night, Charley Bear. Charley Bear is a lot like PBC. Except she's a little more restless and a little more distrustful of people. But man, do I love my Charley. She's been a godsend for me lately, even when she runs off my couch and tries to divebomb my carpet (note: I rarely let her do that). But man. When they say life takes, it takes. And to quote Sufjan Stevens, "And he takes, and and he takes, and he takes." And he takes. Even objectively speaking I don't think I deserved this. To wake up to one pig dead. To come home to another passed away under her water bottle. To put down two pigs, one being the best friend I've ever known. I think life played some sort of cruel joke on me; take away her favorite part of life,