Sunday, April 07, 2002

To Grieve A Pig

I was very sad yesterday to read Shelley's account of the death of the one and only hairless pigpigpig Wilbur. I sent her a condolence email, letting her know I will think of her when I call our pig a pigpigpig, and to let her know I feel her pain.

Well, this morning rises and shines and we find ourselves pigless as well.

Geoff decided the guinea pig needed a bath while we were all sleeping. I'd been up twice this morning. The first time was to help him to turn on the television, the second was to make him come back inside because it was 29 degrees out and he was barefoot in shorts and a tshirt from sleeping.

I should have stayed up, this never would have happened, but I was tired and daylight savings time was kicking my ass.

Doug got up when the dog threw up (yes, the dog threw up in our bedroom, can't you tell this is just a gorgeous morning???) and went to get paper towels. He opened the bathroom door and the pig was in the sink. She was soaking wet, and there was no water in the sink and no Geoff.

Suffice to say, he either drowned her by accident or held her still because she was trying to get away. She was smelly, she needed a bath. So he says.

We grilled him and he said that she wouldn't be still so he had to hold her. So either he squeezed too hard or he just held her in there. Doug tried to revive her, when he picked her up he thought he felt a heart beat, but it was no use.

Geoff wanted us to call the Doctor and see if we could get her fixed. But it was too late.

I sat on the couch and cried, Doug lectured Geoff on what happens when you break the rules, the fact that every single day since she came in this house he took her out of her cage without asking permission, without asking a grown up.

Jessica didn't take it well. But she's already asked me for another one. The hell we'll get one anytime soon.

I'm not good with pet death. It is almost a year to the day (tomorrow) since we put My Missy down, and I'm just not emotionally stable when it comes to four legged death. So this is not a good time for me. This is bad. I'm sad enough about the pig, but have residual grief on Missy.

Later this afternoon I guess we'll bury her in the yard (Geoff said "YAY! I get to dig a hole!" to which we expressed displeasure, even though hole digging is one of his favorite things). Jessie is crying on her bed and will not allow any of us to console her.

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