Sally, my sweet little guinea pig of six years, died this morning. I was lucky enough to be with her when it happened. She was very peaceful and comfortable in her little house and I petted her and told her she was a good girl right up to the end. Sally was an exceptionally bold and curious little guinea pig, running free-range around the house--she'd follow you around with cheerful little squeeks and purrs. Everyone in my family, who can't agree about one other damn thing, loved Sally and treated her as one of our own. When I, my sister and both parents were home we'd talk about "the five of us." Little Sallymander, little Squickles, little Ratty, little Meerschweinchen.
I love you, baby. See you on the Rainbow Bridge.
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