TheAurora
Adult Guinea Pig
I’m going to share this story, however painful it may be … firstly so that if any other less experienced owners are faced with the same situation they might make better choices than me. But also, so that more experienced piggy carers might be able to give me a little expert perspective.
I’ll never forget watching Freddie die last night. Will never forgive myself for letting it happen. I don’t think I’ve ever felt less like being alive. Here is Freddie’s story…
As you know Freddie’s brother Marmalade died a few weeks ago. Freddie was coping well but he wasn’t the same – a general lethargy, quietness and a sadness had enveloped him. I’d started looking into finding him a friend. This is more background information as to why perhaps Freddie gave up without a fight.
At the weekend I noticed a few times when I picked Freddie up a bit of a clicking noise when he was breathing. Several times I noticed, not so much laboured breathing, but an exaggerated movement in his chest. The symptoms were intermittent and there were no other signs – his nose was clear, eyes bright, he was eating, no crusting around the mouth and after watching him frolic in the run for about four hours on Sunday afternoon I thought ‘I’ll keep an eye on him and see how he is’. What I should have done is taken him STRAIGHT TO THE VET.
On Monday night he seemed much more lethargic and on Tuesday morning he was off his food. I managed to tempt him with a handful of grass, kept him indoors, and while I was out at work bought syringes, pellet food I could mush down and a Vit C power. I intended to ring the vet in the evening and take him straight up if necessary but realised I might need to force feed so wanted to be prepared.
When I got home last Freddie was much worse. I had a go at syringe feeding but he used all his final energy fighting me off. When I put him down his back legs weren’t working properly – it was like his batteries had run out. A few minutes later he was gasping for breath and twisting and contorting as he tried to breath.
It didn’t take long for him to pass. I went to the vet anyway to make sure he was out of his misery and not suffering. When he took his final breath he lifted his head and rested it on the side of the travel case looking at me.
What made things even worse (if that’s possible) is the reaction of the vet. He said: “This guinea pig looks so healthy and in good condition. What has happened?” I explained the above and he asked if Freddie was off his food and said they can go downhill very fast if they don’t eat.
But quite frankly he was very suspicious. I don’t think he could believe this glossy coated, chubby, bight eyed (even in death), vivacious guinea pig led dead on the table in front of him could have anything wrong with him.
It’s crossed my mind that trying to syringe feed him may have done more damage than good.
I also know had I sought help at the weekend he’d probably still be alive.
Don’t let his happen to your beloved piggy… don’t feel like me… I’m not even sure how to go on.
I’ll never forget watching Freddie die last night. Will never forgive myself for letting it happen. I don’t think I’ve ever felt less like being alive. Here is Freddie’s story…
As you know Freddie’s brother Marmalade died a few weeks ago. Freddie was coping well but he wasn’t the same – a general lethargy, quietness and a sadness had enveloped him. I’d started looking into finding him a friend. This is more background information as to why perhaps Freddie gave up without a fight.
At the weekend I noticed a few times when I picked Freddie up a bit of a clicking noise when he was breathing. Several times I noticed, not so much laboured breathing, but an exaggerated movement in his chest. The symptoms were intermittent and there were no other signs – his nose was clear, eyes bright, he was eating, no crusting around the mouth and after watching him frolic in the run for about four hours on Sunday afternoon I thought ‘I’ll keep an eye on him and see how he is’. What I should have done is taken him STRAIGHT TO THE VET.
On Monday night he seemed much more lethargic and on Tuesday morning he was off his food. I managed to tempt him with a handful of grass, kept him indoors, and while I was out at work bought syringes, pellet food I could mush down and a Vit C power. I intended to ring the vet in the evening and take him straight up if necessary but realised I might need to force feed so wanted to be prepared.
When I got home last Freddie was much worse. I had a go at syringe feeding but he used all his final energy fighting me off. When I put him down his back legs weren’t working properly – it was like his batteries had run out. A few minutes later he was gasping for breath and twisting and contorting as he tried to breath.
It didn’t take long for him to pass. I went to the vet anyway to make sure he was out of his misery and not suffering. When he took his final breath he lifted his head and rested it on the side of the travel case looking at me.
What made things even worse (if that’s possible) is the reaction of the vet. He said: “This guinea pig looks so healthy and in good condition. What has happened?” I explained the above and he asked if Freddie was off his food and said they can go downhill very fast if they don’t eat.
But quite frankly he was very suspicious. I don’t think he could believe this glossy coated, chubby, bight eyed (even in death), vivacious guinea pig led dead on the table in front of him could have anything wrong with him.
It’s crossed my mind that trying to syringe feed him may have done more damage than good.
I also know had I sought help at the weekend he’d probably still be alive.
Don’t let his happen to your beloved piggy… don’t feel like me… I’m not even sure how to go on.
