Monday 1 September 2014

Another goodbye

I don't know if this is a first goodbye or a last goodbye or simply another goodbye.

I buried my pet this evening.  Poppy, the last guinea pig.  She's buried next to the first, Phyllis.  Phyllis was a big ginger pig.  She moved in with me in 2000 along with her blind cage mate, Rosie.  Two beautiful girls passed to me by a work colleague who didn't want to part with them but had to.  Phyllis was 8 years old when she died in 2005.  She was, for me, the guinea pig who kind of represents the others.  I still dream about her.  There's not one guinea pig related dream which Phyllis doesn't appear in. The guardian angel of all those who came after her.

Poppy too lived a long life, possibly seven years old in the end.  For nearly two years she lived alone because, for me, she was the last pig.  She lived much longer than I expected, her cage mates were the same age.  She was the opposite of Phyllis.  I hardly heard her squeak and she was timid not bold, black and white, not ginger, smooth haired, not Abyssinian.  I did my best for her, other than find her a friend for those lonely years.  Spent more on vet treatment than it would cost to acquire three more guinea pigs this year alone.

So, the last pig is buried in the garden.  It's the last goodbye.

The garden which I will be leaving in the next month as I move house.  It's a spot I don't think she'll be disturbed in, regardless of whatever work is done, whether it's paved over or reshaped.  I think she'll rest in peace.  And somehow it's the first of the goodbyes to this house.  It signifies change in a way nothing else has, not the re-painting in neutral colours, not the sold sign, not the half packed boxes in the spare bedroom, not the relentless clearing out of stuff.  This truly is change because the guinea pigs have gone.  It's the first goodbye.

But this house has seen a lot of goodbyes, and there are more to come, and I just hope I can do those properly, do them meaningfully and finally with dignity and respect.  There have been too many goodbyes said here, and this is another in the one too many stakes.  I shall miss the feeling of having life in the house, the constant tiny movements and noises and the company.  Goodbye Poppy, you're already missed.