DaveyCavy
New Born Pup
I apologize in advance for the emotional onslaught to follow!
I lost my baby Lola on Wednesday, and I am having trouble dealing with the grief. She was my youngest, sweetest, most curious pig and she brought so much joy to my life. (It didn't hurt that she was utterly adorable: a teddy pig, almost all black with one white paw, two white spots on her forehead, one little white splotch on her chin, and the most inquisitive expression on her face.) She wasn't very talkative, except for when we cuddled, and then she would meep quietly in my ear with that little voice of hers, telling me all about her day.
She had grown quite pear-shaped over the last few months, but I attributed that to her finally gaining some weight (she was always my smallest pig). On Wednesday morning, she wasn't eating, so I took her to the emergency vet and discovered that she had a baseball-sized tumor in her belly. I don't understand how I missed that... Thinking back, it should have been easily visible to me, but I just thought she was chubby. The vet told me it was inoperable and the cancer had probably already spread elsewhere. When I asked about comfort care, the vet told me it was too late for that too. I held Lola while she died that afternoon, stroking her and telling her it was okay to let go, but my heart is shattered.
She was just shy of 4 years old, and I thought we had so much more time... Time for her to zoom, popcorn, eat her favorite treats (cucumbers, cilantro, and pea flakes), play on the grass. I am wracked with guilt because in recent months, I had spent more energy caring for one of her sickly sisters. Now I'm imagining this horrible, cancerous tumor growing in my little Lola, taking over her insides and metastasizing and pressing on her organs while she quietly suffered and I fussed over my other pigs.
In the last few days, I have been spending a lot of time with her siblings because I don't want to have the same regrets with them. I now realize how fragile these creatures are, and how adept at hiding their illnesses. But a part of me is struggling to even glance at their cage without Lola in it; I don't know if I'll ever be able to derive the same level of joy from my other piggies again, and that's not fair to them. Most people don't understand the grief I'm feeling, because she was "just a guinea pig." But I wonder if I'll ever get over it, and I can't fathom the thought of going through this four more times.
Thank you for taking the time to read this. Any words of advice would be greatly appreciated. I'll also include the obligatory photos of Lola, so you can see what a gorgeous sweetheart she was.
I lost my baby Lola on Wednesday, and I am having trouble dealing with the grief. She was my youngest, sweetest, most curious pig and she brought so much joy to my life. (It didn't hurt that she was utterly adorable: a teddy pig, almost all black with one white paw, two white spots on her forehead, one little white splotch on her chin, and the most inquisitive expression on her face.) She wasn't very talkative, except for when we cuddled, and then she would meep quietly in my ear with that little voice of hers, telling me all about her day.
She had grown quite pear-shaped over the last few months, but I attributed that to her finally gaining some weight (she was always my smallest pig). On Wednesday morning, she wasn't eating, so I took her to the emergency vet and discovered that she had a baseball-sized tumor in her belly. I don't understand how I missed that... Thinking back, it should have been easily visible to me, but I just thought she was chubby. The vet told me it was inoperable and the cancer had probably already spread elsewhere. When I asked about comfort care, the vet told me it was too late for that too. I held Lola while she died that afternoon, stroking her and telling her it was okay to let go, but my heart is shattered.
She was just shy of 4 years old, and I thought we had so much more time... Time for her to zoom, popcorn, eat her favorite treats (cucumbers, cilantro, and pea flakes), play on the grass. I am wracked with guilt because in recent months, I had spent more energy caring for one of her sickly sisters. Now I'm imagining this horrible, cancerous tumor growing in my little Lola, taking over her insides and metastasizing and pressing on her organs while she quietly suffered and I fussed over my other pigs.
In the last few days, I have been spending a lot of time with her siblings because I don't want to have the same regrets with them. I now realize how fragile these creatures are, and how adept at hiding their illnesses. But a part of me is struggling to even glance at their cage without Lola in it; I don't know if I'll ever be able to derive the same level of joy from my other piggies again, and that's not fair to them. Most people don't understand the grief I'm feeling, because she was "just a guinea pig." But I wonder if I'll ever get over it, and I can't fathom the thought of going through this four more times.
Thank you for taking the time to read this. Any words of advice would be greatly appreciated. I'll also include the obligatory photos of Lola, so you can see what a gorgeous sweetheart she was.
