I haven't updated since the last exciting Gordon news, because I have been all super busy taking care of him three times a day. My dishes, my laundry, heck even my kids didn't get any attention over this past week because I was all about the guinea pig. My great news of Sunday has shifted to Bad News Thursday.
I just got home from work, and Gordon was in his cage, on his side... unresponsive. So I did what I did the last time. I lifted him up, he's stiff as a board and ice cold, hard as a rock.
It's officially official and not a zombie/Lazarus kind of situation. He's dead.
It's so sad really. He was working so hard over the last four days. Actually, I should say that I was working so hard over the last four days. And I thought yeah, if he's crippled and can't walk right and flops around all the time, I'm okay with that. I can hand feed him forever. I can give him syringes of water and orange juice concentrate. I can hand wash him so he doesn't stink of piss, and then lovingly dry him, twice a day. I can continue to squeeze his little butt so all the poo is out.
But it isn't to be.
My willingness and accepting heart as Nursemaid to a Rodent meant nothing in the greater unknown science of God and things. Gordon just wasn't able to recover from whatever it is that kicked his ass. I think maybe he had a stroke or something, because only his front right leg worked. The front left was stuck pointing straight down his body, and guinea pig physical therapy just wasn't helping. I'd position him in a nice stance, put a piece of orange or a kiwi or some cabbage in front of him and hold him upright. He'd eat, with gusto. He'd cuddle. We'd clean up and sit on the couch. Wash, rinse, repeat.
It's over. And I'm sad. But I'm not sad that he's not suffering anymore.
And on that note, my friends, that's all I gotta say. My sails have no wind in them. I'm wiped the hell out.