Guinea Pig CrazyGuinea Pig Crazy|
I was in my thirties when I got my first quinea pig. His name was Squeaks, and I believe he actually chose me, instead the other way around. I had stopped to look in a neighborhood bookstore, and somehow found myself coming out of pet store next to it with Squeaks, a cage, and guinea pig food. I thought mine was a unique experience, until I got to know other guinea pig owners and found that it happens a lot. I purchased Squeaks in 1994, shortly after the Army assigned me to work at the Pentagon, in Washington D.C.. Finding myself in a very big city, working in a very big "office" it was easy to feel insignificant. But, as the yet un-named Squeaks snuggled into my shoulder as I watched TV in my recliner, I knew that I was significant to at least one thing there. He quickly became as significant to me.  It didn't take long for Squeaks to became my family - one who shared my holidays, birthdays and special events. Throughout this time, he made himself at home and jealously guarded the kitchen entryway, making sure to exact a toll in the form of greens whenever I got near it. Being an Army pig, Squeaks quickly found that a trip in the car did not necessarily mean that we were going to vet office. After three years of trips to visit out-of-state family and friends, we logged in a cross-country trip to my retirement home and new husband in Colorado Springs, CO in 1997.  I was relieved that my husband accepted Squeaks into our home. He even understood when I went to meet his parents in Arkansas for the first time, holding onto the handle of a travel carrier with Squeaks in it. My new mother in-law, who had been expecting a real pig, was happy to find Squeaks in the carrier.  After a year and half in Colorado, the Army transferred my husband, who was still in the service - and Squeaks and I - to Arizona. Our convoy consisted of Squeaks and I in one car, and my husband in the other. By that time, Squeaks was a pretty savvy traveler, and as he stuck his head out of the carrier when we got to Arizona, he had a look on his face that said, "okay, where are we now?"  None of us knew it at the time, but the move to Arizona would be Squeaks' last one with us. In October 2000, he stopped eating and became listless. Despite trips to a local vet and a very experienced exotic vet in Tucson, one night he departed to Rainbow Bridge. My dear friend, companion, and travel buddy made his last trip without me. I wrapped him in one of his favorite towels and buried him under a mesquite tree in our backyard. When the Army decides to move us again, I know that I will have to leave Squeaks behind, buried under the Mesquite tree in Arizona. But, I also know that I will be taking with me much more than what I had before he entered my life. It seems that all I needed to know about life I learned from my Guinea Pig:
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