About the death of my beloved guinea pig, Spots, and the arrival of his "replacement". |
“At Midnight” His fragile body is warm in my hands, furry head resting lightly on my chest. I clutch at the cheery yellow towel as if it were a physical manifestation of hope. My eyes leak silent tears as I hug him to my breast, ready, if not willing, to let him go. The witching hour has come and gone when they finally insert the needle full of bubble-gum-pink death. He looks me in the eye, body so full of life, and my eyes turn into faucets. One thrust of the syringe and his body deflates, a balloon someone has poked a hole into. There’s no need for the soft voiced nurse to say “He’s gone.” I know irrevocably his life force has fled, his tiny heart ceased beating. “A Silver Lining” My sorrow’s puffy cloud has a silver lining – her delicate, furry body a magical hue of misty, palest gray and snowy white in the places in between. A tiny, twitching nose is splashed in gray and contantly moving, roving, exploring as bright eyes peer from a paint splattered monochromatic face. The muted colors make her eyes seem overbright, coal black and wetly shining. Her vivacious life and sparkling personality bring a needed smile to my face. The dark cloud of his demise shines brighter with her halo of light. He is with her, through her, in her – and she is truer. |