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Guinea Pigs Gone to the Rainbow Bridge |
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It is said that when we lose a friend, there is a new star in the sky at night. On these cold, bleak Winter nights I look up, and through my tears I see the stars of a constellation twinkling in the sky. I hope your spirits run free, dashing and playing in meadows of sweet timothy grass, with cool waters to sip and sweet fruits to nibble and play with. May you have places to explore, treats beyond measure, and cardboard to nibble. To all our gentle beloved piggies, we will always love you.
- T. Green, 1996
'Sweet
little Jazz, cute as a teddy bear, so huggable. You never complained when
you were sick, even when the medicine tasted yucky, you knew they were
meant for you to get better. I will never forget the many times you dozed
off on my tummy, when you dug into the folds of my blanket, and the joy
you gave me when our eyes met. Sweet and special Jazz, you will always
be remembered and loved dearly. Have fun at the Rainbow Bridge.
JAZZ : 22 Oct 1997 - 17 Nov 1997'
Love always, Bernadette
Rosy crossed the Rainbow Bridge last
night (Nov 12) at 10 pm. She had surgery earlier in the day. Her greatly
enlarged spleen, cyctic ovaries and enlarged uterus were removed. She
had made some little progress coming out of the anesthisia. At one point
she tried to lift her head and reposition herself with her front paws.
But later her breathing became ragged and with three deep breathes she
was gone. She died quietly in my arms. Rosy would have been 6 in March.
Squeeker and I, and indeed my whole family will miss her greatly. We buried
her in the garden this morning. Thank you to those who sent healing wheeks.
Rosy now romps across that meadow just this side of Heaven.
Sadly, SRakoczy (Sharon) and Squeeker
Princess Buttercup, our beloved female Guinea Pig, passed away on Sunday, October 5, 1997, following a short illness. Born on December 15, 1995, she became part of our family in late January of 1996.
She was welcomed by our male Guinea Pig, Dr. Watson, and quickly settled into the routine of our busy lives. Soon, romance bloomed between Watson and Buttercup, and on August 28, 1996 she gave birth to three healthy babies. One of the two females, Jackie, lives with a family in Erie, Pa, while the other female, Bear, and the male, Krumm, still reside with us in Pittsburgh. We will never forget how proud she was and how quick she was to show off her babies on that early August morning. She was an excellent mother, nurturing her young, teaching them, and then allowing them to grow up when the time was right.
Buttercup, who we sometimes called "Cuppy," was incredibly loving. She seemed to know when we were having a bad day, and would greet us with a squeaky song and happy kisses. She was content to curl up for a long cuddle, and would let us know when we were scratching the right spot with a contented purr. Her sense of hearing was keenly attuned to the sound of the refrigerator vegetable drawer, and she would excitedly announce the impending arrival of treats to the other pigs.
She became ill less than two days before she died. Dr. John Ruffing provided expert care, not only for her but for us as well. His honesty and profound sense of caring were a great comfort. At 10:30am on Sunday, October 5th, Dr. Ruffing was waiting for us outside as we pulled into the animal hospital parking lot. He took her into his healing hands, doing what he could to make her comfortable. A few moments later, she was gone.
Buttercup is survived by her mate, Dr, Watson, her three children, Bear, Krumm, and Jackie, her parents, Heath and Heather Moss, and countless friends and family whose lives she has brightened during her short stay with us.
Buttercup was an important part of our family, and her passing leaves us with both a profound sense of loss and a joyous sense of anticipation until we meet again. She is gone, but she lives on in everyone who loved her. She will never be forgotten.
Heath and Heather
4/28/97 OTTER joined us from the Animal Humane Society. She is 5 months old. She is named "Otter" because she looks like an otter! She is an silver Agouti sow. She is in a day cage and night bed by herself. She seems to prefer this arrangement. She is 31 ounces!
09/04/97 I'm so sorry Otter that you got pregnant when we were trying to protect you from that. Because of your pregnancy, you lost your life. Thank you for giving us one of your children who by the grace of God is alive today and is nursing from Little Girl. We love you and cannot stop crying for you. I wish you could come back to us somehow. We know that you could not feed the two babies that lived. The one died as you know, but the other one is with us and doing well so far. No one will ever replace you. Mom and Dad
September 4, 1997
Dear Dr. Capper, Dr. Baker and your caring and reliable staff: John and myself wanted to send this to you via fax and express our gratitude to all of you for doing all you could to help OTTER heal. It's difficult for me to talk verbally at this time without breaking into tears because we dearly loved OTTER and feel a great deal of guilt that if we could have protected her from becoming pregnant that she would be alive today. The one baby that has survived from the litter of 4 is doing well and nursing from the surrogate mother, LITTLE GIRL. We consider this to be a miracle in itself as the baby stopped taking the milk and baby food I was feeding it on the hour after 48 hrs., and PEPPER began nursing successfully from LITTLE GIRL just today, the same day that OTTER passed on.
John and I found this wonderful
poem on the Internet as we were searching for words of comfort and wanted
to share this with you, our GUINEA PIG caretakers, with much love and
thankfulness to all of you,
John and Carolyn
There he was; a little brown, white and black guinea pig with a bowl upon his head. Yes the food bowl was tipped and he was resting under it. Little did we know that Robo would forever change our lives. He was a three month old Abyssinian. We soon learned he loved mischief, he ate my daughter's button in the car. Immediately we bonded with him. His antics were beyond amusing. We soon found out he was very smart. He would greet us. He would sit up and reach for his treats. He had great patience allowing us to trim his nails without protest. He would sit like a sentry upon his wooden block. Poor imitation of a bird, but very amusing to say the least. Exercise time was always fun. Robo would often popcorn and he always waited to relieve himself in his cage. He would burrow under my chair and pretend he was a big bear inside his den. Retrieving him was easy enough, any treat would suffice. Everyday Robo made us smile and laugh. Robo was not a pet, but a friend. He gave us a lot, but alas we had so little time together. he was with us less than three months when he passed. We tried in vain to heal him, but he would cross the Rainbow Bridge. We have shed many tears thinking back on your short stay, but we are thankful for the memories. We will always treasure them. Robo your echo is in our heart. You will forever be missed.
Jacqueline and Andrew
Gweek! Gweek! Gweek!
Once I had the loudest squeak
But those who are younger
Have stolen my thunder
They are much better than I was at my peak
Munch! Munch! Munch!
Happiness is cold lettuce for lunch
Having it placed at my feet
So I don't need to squeak
Let them "squeal!" while I go "crunch!"
I'm the piggy they're picking on
today
'Cause my fur is long and smells like hay
They think I'm tasty and fun to chew
But I've got news for them and for you
You other piggies tease me 'cause of my fur
But when it's full length, I'll look even BIGGER
Gweek! Gweek! Gweek!
I still have a loud enough squeak
And those who are younger
Better run from my thunder
If I like that celery stalk at your feet.
Rena
My dearest Rippley
I hope you are having a wonderful time at the Rainbow Bridge. I hope that each morning you wake up to a carrot-scented dawn and each night you sleep on soft pillows of parsley.
How is it possible to explain how much I miss you? We shared almost five and a half years before you had to go away. I remember how you loved to sit on my arm, resting your nose in the crook of my elbow, sometimes sneaking a nibble on my shirt sleeve. I remember how cute you looked as you ran down the hall toward the kitchen, chortling all the way, and how your ears would flap when you'd loudly wheek for a treat. I remember your exuberant stretches! You'd let loose with a happy wheek, strrretcccchhhhing your back legs, whenever I picked you up. And how can I ever forget that in the winter, you loved to wrap up in a towel fresh from the dryer? Or how you cooed in answer to noises -- keys jangling, doorbells ringing, music playing? Or the way your whole body "rippled" when you cooed -- hence, your name?
Rippley (Rippy, The Rip, The R, Big Red), you were my first guinea pig, and you taught me so much. I learned that if you gave me a long, significant stare as you sat in my lap, you had to use the bathroom. If you came and stood on my foot as I opened the refrigerator, you wanted a treat. If you arched your back when I reached into your cage, you were giving me permission to pick you up.
Let no one ever say that you were not strong-willed. You were never sick a day in your life until you got pneumonia at the age of four and a half. You pulled through it, however, in your usual manner, with grace and style. Even when you were diagnosed with heart disease, you continued to fight the good fight. I could tell from your demeanor that you weren't planning to go anywhere. You stood your ground well, and with courage. But then came the day when I saw the light go out of your eyes. Resting quietly, surrounded by your family, you stretched one last time. Then you were gone.
We had a song, you remember, that meant treats were on the way. You got so smart that I only needed to sing one note of the song, and you'd begin wheeking happily, knowing it was food time. I want you to know that your guinea-pig pal Calliope does the same thing now, although she never recognized the song until you were gone. I think you passed it on to her when you left.
My smart, brave, sweet Rippley, you were my special girl. I love you, and I will always be ...
Your proud "Mom,"
Cindy
Bandi was the last of the 4 piggies that moved with me from Kentucky to Pennsylvania. I am somewhat saddened by the fact that I don't even know how old she was- Bandi was a rescue pig that a store owner took in when she was pregnant and full grown. We had thought that she was at least 1-1/2 to 2 years old at the time. I remember telling the store owner that he would have a difficult time selling her- Bandi was certainly no show pig. She had a ear bitten almost in 2, and her markings were not what you would call quality. Whoever said that a guinea pig was a rat without a tail had Bandi in mind. After giving birth to 9 pups, a breeder wanted her. Kevin wouldn't sell her to him because he didn't trust him. So after 4 months in the store, she came home with me to be a companion for Peepers. Bandi immediately learned to reject alfalfa pellets and become a spoiled, pampered piggy. Where as Mr. Pig was a lovable goofball, Caterpooper was a beauty queen, and Peepers was a brawny Schwarznagel type, Bandi became the Chairpig of the Board. She was smart, dominant and curious. She would lead the squeaks when I came home, and would stand on my feet, inspect what treat I had for them, and then chew my shoelaces off while I was getting them ready. I always had to keep a supply of extra laces. Bandi's rough exterior could not hide her heart. When Caterpooper passed away in March, it was Bandi who adopted her baby. She loved to have her nose scratched, and when she was in my arms, how she would stretch her neck to tuck her nose against my chin. We will miss her dearly.
Dan and the Herd
Died, June 1997 - although he was
put to sleep,
it would be more accurate to say "died of
neglect" because some owner did not have this
piggy indoors or safely enclosed; he escaped,
and became a stray. When he was found, and
turned in to the shelter in Austin, Texas, he was
too ill to save. He appeared to still be young -
probably less than 6 months. I hope all the
other piggies at the Bridge will teach him how to
be a proper piggy and how to play.
Kelly
Bright eyes lose their luster when
sickness is upon you
Who knew how badly carrot juice stains white fur?
Pink lips drained of their rosy hue- ashen.
Oh, what we would give to hear you purr...
Copyright © 1997, Heather Morgan
Tinsel, Tinsel my little star
The world is brighter where you are
What's it like at the rainbow bridge
What do they keep in the rainbow fridge
Are there rolling hills of fresh green grass
Or a comfy lounge to help time pass
Are you surrounded by other piggie friends
Who have also met untimely ends
The world down here still carries
on
Winter is singing it's mournful song
We await spring now with baited breath
Then we'll have passed the season of your death
The other pigs are doing fine
Though taking up a lot of time
They're trying hard to be brave and strong
We're all pretending there's nothing wrong
I miss you every day my sweet
Though I know again one day we'll meet
So enjoy yourself my precious pet
I am on my way but not just yet
The years will go and when I pass through the gate
We'll be together again my friend, my mate.
Copyright © 1997, Karen Riddell
Oh, your little face of white
And your body, black as night.
Over on the Rainbow Bridge
Squealing for the opened fridge.
How I miss you very much
Gurgled when I reached to touch.
When I saw your watery eyes
When I watched you slowly die.
Lying like a cashew nut
Running in your daily hut.
You're our funny little man
I'll always be your biggest fan.
Someday we will meet again
My love for you will never end.
Leanne
Buttons passed over the bridge on April 25, 1997. Leanne is the "young" daughter of the "owner" although she certainly understands what has happened and expresses herself wonderfully.
When we first got Cinny last July, Raggs became extremely motherly. This surprised us since she had been spayed at 6 months and never had puppies of her own. She was 11 years old. She would lay by Cinny's cage whenever we went out, and stay there to protect him until we came back. She would constantly try to groom him when he sat on our laps, and would nudge him playfully (but gently) just like a mother and her pup. She even tried to pick him up a few times, but we didn't allow it.
When Cinny was loose, they would take turns following each other through the house and Cinny would play Hide and Seek with Raggs. Cinny actually seemed to search for Raggs after she passed away. Sometimes we think Cinny really thought he was a dog!! We miss them both.
Sharon and gang
Hickory, our first guinea pig, died on April 14th. We dearly miss our Mr. Muff from Mufferville, who gave us a true appreciation for animals.
Peter, Jacki & Josh
Tex's Tribute to Sundae
I know it's been a short while since her passing, but I want to take a few moments to jot down my memories of Sundae, my first cyber-pig. We all know that Mary Barr was Sundae's owner, but (as is true with many of the Digest members), she had a number of "owners" via the Digest.
When I first joined the Digest almost two years ago, I began correspondence with Mary, on almost a daily (and sometimes more) basis. At the time, Sundae was an "only child", and I got to partake vicariously in Sundae's escapades. Every day at lunch, I would download my Digest and an e-mail, and get the "Sundae Report". The messages described Sundae's doings in a way that I could easily envision her, and it was like having a piggie there with me at lunchtime. I came to love that gentle, chubby, happy bundle of wheep like she was one of my own. Sundae's picture was the first one I ever received via e-mail. I had just learned how to use "uuencode". Sometime later, I got a copy of her "bath picture". It was a shock when I first saw it; I had never seen a guinea pig lie on its back willingly! Then there was the little Scruffy bear, Sundae's first companion, and the topic of another picture: Sundae chewing on the little bear's nose....not quite the reunion of a couple of old friends! I have perhaps one of the last things that Sundae chewed on; Mary's note to me with her calendar order.
Now, Sundae's gone, and I feel a loss. Not as great as Mary's perhaps, but a dull ache - just guinea pig sized - in the area of my heart. I can only hope that she's gone on to something better; at the very least she is beyond pain. The concept of the Rainbow Bridge is a comforting one to me, and I hope that Sundae has found her way there. She will have a lot of company, and someday we'll all meet again. Be at peace, little one. Know that you are missed, and remembered.
I add to this my condolences to all that have lost friends lately.
Tex
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If you would like to post a memorial to a special guinea pig companion, please e-mail it and a picture (if you wish) to Memorial -at- GuineapigsRainbow.org
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