Wednesday, August 08, 2007

Pig Heaven

Well, I'm taking a breath just long enough to guide my little family through a tragedy. Today, our beloved guinea pig, Pogo, met her maker. She was almost 5 years old, and my son was just recently beginning to really bond with her. He had taken over some of the responsibilities, very happily, so he feels a little cheated as well as sad. My daughter first thought it was a curious thing, death... Then she realized she could get a little more attention if she keened like an old Irish waif, and then it just got away from her and she really cried. My son drew a picture memorizializing little Pogo, and he'll weep for a while, off and on.

DH dug the hole, and we had a grave-side service. Connor said a lovely prayer and Maisie told Pogo about her new build-a-bear toy she got in her happy meal and hoped that Pogo could have one in heaven. It was sweet, except for the police helicopter that kept buzzing overhead (still don't know what that was all about--maybe they thought we had dug up Jimmy Hoffa!).

I'm in the midst of a panic over finishing my classes, so I'm not sure if all my grief was bound for the little pig in the sky-blue sheet going to her final rest under our pine tree. I have about 4,000 words to write between now and Monday, so before I pull all my hair out, I'll end this sad little post.

Pray that I am still sane come Monday...and that I still have hair!


  1. Jimmy Hoffa, ha ha! I grew up in Detroit and remember his disappearance well. We also had a guinea pig who died, a cute little thing named Chester which somehow morphed into Uncle Fester. Derek was heartbroken when he died. We buried him in mid January, not the best time to try to scoop out a little grave.

  2. Sorry about the little guy. It's funny. We had two pet mice years ago who got buried in our back gardens when they died. Then last year when our second set of mice died, it was almost a relief to see them gone ... no burial ... just a sneak into the garbage bag.

    How awful is that? I think one of my earliest blog entries (Not such a Farty Smell) was about the death of one of our mice ... we're still not totally sure how long he was dead before we noticed, but he sure did smell bad.

  3. I love this story, because it has such a great mix of geniune sadness and dispassionate thoughts about the situation. I totally remember being a kid and thinking, ooh, this crying is getting me some primo attention, and I see kids pull that all the time. I hope the healing goes well.

    Congrats on being done with your class!


Thanks to spammers, this blog is moderated, so don't be alarmed if your comment doesn't appear right away. Thanks for stopping by!