farewell, wuza (11/1/97 - 6/5/02)

last night, a hot windless night, i buried wuza. as karl and i put the dirt over her little body, wrapped in a pink towel, it started to rain.

we arrived at margaret�s house at 7.15. margaret met us at the door, cradling wuza�s body in the pink towel. she had died at 6.30, in her arms. wuza looked so different. the furry roll under her chin was gone, leaving her looking so thin. too thin. her fur was unkempt, but still soft. her little white ears, usually lined with red blood vessels, were completely white.

she had been fine on monday night, biting on the cage bars for food as usual. tuesday morning, she was in pain. margaret took the day off from work to take her to the vet. the vet said wuza had bloat, injected fluids, and sent her home, saying the fluids would either do it or they wouldn�t. they didn�t. it�s not margaret�s fault, but as i do research on the web about bloat, i�m more and more convinced that the vet didn�t know what she was talking about, and that if wuza had been treated properly, she might have lived.

people i�ve written to from the guinea pig daily digest say that bloat, while serious, doesn�t have to be deadly if it is treated immediately and aggressively. margaret�s vet was right to inject fluids, but she also should have (a) injected an antibiotic, (b) injected metoclopramide (reglan) to get the gastro-intestinal system moving again, (c) given wuza a dose of an infant gas medicine to relieve the pressure, and (d) given her some pain medication. Several people from the gpdd have said that most of the guinea pigs they see with bloat pull through, if treated as above. my poor little wuza didn�t get that treatment, so spent a day and a half suffering in pain before dying. and i came home from a holiday to find my beloved little girl dead.

i didn�t put her down from the time margaret handed her to me until i laid her in her grave. it�s under a holly bush in the side-front garden. before i laid her in, i fixed the fur on her forehead so that she had the fierce battle point that john and i used to love. i hate to think of her lying there, in the dirt, with only a pink towel protecting her, all alone, getting rained on.

i missed her biting on the cage bars this morning. miss fergusson didn�t seem to know what to do this morning�she usually follows wuza�s lead about biting on the bars. in other ways, miss fergusson seems okay. she�s eating and drinking, and accepted her vitamin c tablet like she always does. i wonder if she misses wuza, or if she�s already forgotten. i�d read years ago that animals take deaths better than humans, but that they need to know what happened to their companion. they get confused if a sick animal suddenly disappears (say, to be treated in another room or something) and never comes back. but if they get a chance to see/smell the dead body, then they understand what�s happened. so, i let miss fergusson get close enough to wuza to smell her. i hope she�ll be okay, and not get lonely and heartbroken.

i miss her putting her front paws up on the cage bars, looking for food. i miss her zooming around the cage in circles like a crazy pig. i miss the little brown spot on the end of her rump�her little brown butt spot, john and i used to call it. i miss her puffing herself up, with her front feet tucked under her chin fat, so i couldn�t see them at all. i miss her lying all splayed out, a puddle of pig. i miss her always trying to climb up to my shoulder and trying to eat my hair. i miss her little pink lips, that were often just slightly parted so i could see the tip of her tongue. i miss her rumbling in dominance at miss fergusson. i miss her ears getting pink when she was warm. i miss the little squeaks she and fergusson used to share as they explored the floor. i miss her licking my skin�mostly, i�m sure, because it was salty. i miss the way she smelled. she smelled different, better, than miss fergusson does. i can�t remember exactly what it was like. i miss the way she smelled.

fuzzy wuzzy wuza pig� i miss you sweet girl.