wigglemish
Well-known Member
Cavy Slave
- Joined
- Mar 10, 2017
- Posts
- 328
- Joined
- Mar 10, 2017
- Messages
- 328
I'm sure you have all seen me plaguing the front page the last few weeks with Crumb's medical thread.
Today, sadly, after fighting as hard as she could, Crumbs went over the Rainbow Bridge. She fought so hard but in the end I suppose the fight was too much.
Crumbs came with Inga, and another little girl, Mab, from a breeder that was closed down. The day we collected her, she had just been separated from her latest and last batch of babies. She was so sad. So, so sad.
She was also matted with human conditioner and had mites, as well as being very thin. I remember the first night she came to me, I sat with her in my lap and washed her and cut all her ratty fur back. She was so good, she didn't flinch or pull away once. I was amazed to find under all that rattiness was beautiful, silken fur in the prettiest creams, gingers and lavender. I had never seen a lavender piggy before. She was so lovely, under all that muck, even if she had a bit of a prison buzzcut for a while. She had a different name when she came to us, but my other half renamed her Crumbs, because he said her colouring reminded him of shortbread biscuits.
She was on her own though, and I have never known a piggy crave human contact like her. She had to be put on pregnancy watch, as we'd been warned her male babies had been mounting her before she was separated, and was quarantined on her own, as Mab and Inga had already been living in a pair, but she had not, so they all needed a clean bill of health before any introductions could be made. That first night after I cleaned her and dried her, she laid across my chest with her head on my shoulder like a baby and let me stroke her and stroke her. Every night during her 6 week quarantine we sat like that, and she would nuzzle in and just lay there, being cuddled.
She didn't wheek until she finally moved in with our herd. Then she came to life. She still was my shadow though, she'd follow me around the room and stand up on her hind legs looking for treats, a trick my other half taught her to do. She used to have a very loud wheek but in the last year or so that faded to a funny little rasp. She'd try her best but all that came out was this hoarse little pffft. It was so endearing.
She adored attention. She'd happily sit in the cage and let me reach in and stroke her, for ages on end, something no other piggy has ever allowed me to do. She'd come to the side of the cage and whistle at you until you rubbed her nose, or licked the tips of your fingers. She was a real people pig. She was my 'princess', as I would call her.
Crumbs came into our life with Inga and Mab after we lost our first girl after only 6 months together. Although I loved them all to bits, Crumbs was my girl. She healed a crack in my heart. And now she's gone and my heart is torn open once more. She was the last one of our original herd, and she was never the same after she lost her best friend, Siggy, back in March. They used to groom each other and trail after one another and sleep in the same pigloo. Crumbs would let Siggy barber her for ages and ages, it used to make such zig-zags in her fur. I even used to go to the vets about it at first, I was so worried, but they surmised it was affectionate. I learned to love watching it, even if it was a little odd. She used to close her eyes with this blissful expression and Siggy would nibble away, gentle as anything. Crumbs was not herself after Siggy went over the Bridge. She became quiet and then the problems with her health started.
Tomorrow will be the first morning in months I do not get up to give Crumbs breakfast. I will not rush home to give her supper. She won't sit there in her special pasta bowl nomming radicchio while I fry tomatoes. I'll be setting my alarm later in the morning, and I'll be walking home instead of rushing to catch the bus, because she won't need me to be there.
I hurt so much. So much. I have 9 plantpots in my garden now, where a year ago I had 3. I tried so so hard to save her and still it wasn't enough. I tried to save so many of them, only two went 'naturally', and I lost them all. I read everything on guinea lynx, I have the first aide kits, I handfeed, I medicate, I try, I do, and I don't win.
I know it's better that she isn't suffering. The vets clipped her nails and combed her hair before they brought her back to me. It's one of the kindest things a vet has ever done for me. She looked very peaceful. But I wish she was here and none of this had happened.
Today, sadly, after fighting as hard as she could, Crumbs went over the Rainbow Bridge. She fought so hard but in the end I suppose the fight was too much.
Crumbs came with Inga, and another little girl, Mab, from a breeder that was closed down. The day we collected her, she had just been separated from her latest and last batch of babies. She was so sad. So, so sad.
She was also matted with human conditioner and had mites, as well as being very thin. I remember the first night she came to me, I sat with her in my lap and washed her and cut all her ratty fur back. She was so good, she didn't flinch or pull away once. I was amazed to find under all that rattiness was beautiful, silken fur in the prettiest creams, gingers and lavender. I had never seen a lavender piggy before. She was so lovely, under all that muck, even if she had a bit of a prison buzzcut for a while. She had a different name when she came to us, but my other half renamed her Crumbs, because he said her colouring reminded him of shortbread biscuits.
She was on her own though, and I have never known a piggy crave human contact like her. She had to be put on pregnancy watch, as we'd been warned her male babies had been mounting her before she was separated, and was quarantined on her own, as Mab and Inga had already been living in a pair, but she had not, so they all needed a clean bill of health before any introductions could be made. That first night after I cleaned her and dried her, she laid across my chest with her head on my shoulder like a baby and let me stroke her and stroke her. Every night during her 6 week quarantine we sat like that, and she would nuzzle in and just lay there, being cuddled.
She didn't wheek until she finally moved in with our herd. Then she came to life. She still was my shadow though, she'd follow me around the room and stand up on her hind legs looking for treats, a trick my other half taught her to do. She used to have a very loud wheek but in the last year or so that faded to a funny little rasp. She'd try her best but all that came out was this hoarse little pffft. It was so endearing.
She adored attention. She'd happily sit in the cage and let me reach in and stroke her, for ages on end, something no other piggy has ever allowed me to do. She'd come to the side of the cage and whistle at you until you rubbed her nose, or licked the tips of your fingers. She was a real people pig. She was my 'princess', as I would call her.
Crumbs came into our life with Inga and Mab after we lost our first girl after only 6 months together. Although I loved them all to bits, Crumbs was my girl. She healed a crack in my heart. And now she's gone and my heart is torn open once more. She was the last one of our original herd, and she was never the same after she lost her best friend, Siggy, back in March. They used to groom each other and trail after one another and sleep in the same pigloo. Crumbs would let Siggy barber her for ages and ages, it used to make such zig-zags in her fur. I even used to go to the vets about it at first, I was so worried, but they surmised it was affectionate. I learned to love watching it, even if it was a little odd. She used to close her eyes with this blissful expression and Siggy would nibble away, gentle as anything. Crumbs was not herself after Siggy went over the Bridge. She became quiet and then the problems with her health started.
Tomorrow will be the first morning in months I do not get up to give Crumbs breakfast. I will not rush home to give her supper. She won't sit there in her special pasta bowl nomming radicchio while I fry tomatoes. I'll be setting my alarm later in the morning, and I'll be walking home instead of rushing to catch the bus, because she won't need me to be there.
I hurt so much. So much. I have 9 plantpots in my garden now, where a year ago I had 3. I tried so so hard to save her and still it wasn't enough. I tried to save so many of them, only two went 'naturally', and I lost them all. I read everything on guinea lynx, I have the first aide kits, I handfeed, I medicate, I try, I do, and I don't win.
I know it's better that she isn't suffering. The vets clipped her nails and combed her hair before they brought her back to me. It's one of the kindest things a vet has ever done for me. She looked very peaceful. But I wish she was here and none of this had happened.
