Photos courtesy of Lola Bourget www.jiggleypiggley.com
Again, a guinea pig has taught me.
I found Biscuit dead this morning, draped across her food dish. The image is burned in my brain. Her weeks of suffering had ended.
I am a photographer. An animal photographer. I recently lost most of my photographs. My soul. My passion.
“When you do things from your soul, you feel a river moving in you, a joy.” – Rumi
My memories, my childrens’ memories, my fiends’ and clients’ memories. So many “moments”..
Something inside me died. I wanted to give up.. Here’s why I’ve decided to go on..
Biscuit came to a shelter from a shelter. In her short life, she never really had a home. Not for long, anyways. She had just been adopted before she became ill. She was not my guinea pig but one whom I loved the moment I laid eyes on her.
I offered to help a friend who runs a rescue with her care. I still don’t really understand what was wrong with her. She had 3 procedures on her teeth. No matter what was done, Biscuit still couldn’t eat. She really did want to though. Guinea Pigs are passionate about eating.
Biscuit was bones covered in crazy black and white hair. I’ll admit that I was squeamish about picking up what was little more than a skeleton. I was afraid to break her. Despite her fragility she was strong. Friendly, sweet, and docile. Unafraid as many piggies are by nature. Popping up at her cage door wondering what delights I had to offer. I force fed her every 3 hours or so. I chopped up parsley, dandelions, and whatever else I could imagine. It took so much energy and effort for her to manage a bit of peeled apple or pear. I watched her spend 15 min. on a piece of lettuce. When she left it there weren’t even any teeth marks in it. It was agonizing to watch.
The other guinea pigs shunned her. They knew that she was not long for this world.
I have tried and failed. I do not fail at what I do. I just fail to make a living at it. Biscuit tried and failed. She Always Tried.
I am grateful that for the days she was here, that she knew love.
I’m not a crying person, but I’ve been at it all day.
Everything happens for a reason but that reason is often elusive. But now, for once, I have discovered the “why”.
Biscuit, I am so sorry that you suffered. That I couldn’t fix you. That you died alone.
You died lying across your food bowl, not in your sleep or in loving arms as I would have wished. You dragged yourself to that bowl to try again; you died trying. You didn’t give up. Not on survival, not on your passion.
Many will think I’m crazy but I have to believe that where you died was your way of leaving me a message. Thank You.
I’ll keep trying. Because you did.
RIP sweet sweet girl. I’ll never forget you.
Photos courtesy of Lola Bourget www.jiggleypiggley.com
