Sometime about a month ago my last guinea baby decided it
was time to join her Uncle Pappy, Sister Obi, and Brother Micki in the Tapley
pet cemetery. I’m only now getting around to writing her tribute because, to be
quite frank, I do not like endings. *Sidebar-
I don’t like television finales, I
don’t like when people move away, I don’t like saying goodnight to a memorable
evening, and I don’t like reading the last page of a good book. I always want
more. * I especially do not like
the fact that the era of guinea babies has come to an end.
Darbi was a super cuddly pig and from the first moment I
first saw her and her beady red eyes and white fur. I knew our time together
would be special. She was named after my own grandmother and she lived up to
that regard. The night she died she awoke me with the sound of her foot
scratching against the bottom of her plastic cage. I jumped out of bed thinking
that she found the strength to revive herself, but alas she was asking for
company so as to not be alone during her send off. Mom, Dad, and I joined her
just as she heaved her last breath- much the same as her namesake.
Despite the number of days since her death, I still find
myself listening for her squeals when I walk into her room and I still want to
give her scraps of veggies while preparing dinner. It’s a strange feeling to be guinea free.
I must remember two things:
1- Every new beginning comes from some other
beginning’s end.
2- After a hurricane comes a rainbow.
