I would just like to thank everybody who loved on and supported me in the loss of Charlie, you guys are the absolute best.

On October 6, 2013, we took our single guinea pig, Milo, to the local rescue to attempt to find him a partner. This wasn’t the first time we had attempted this, but Milo has somewhat of a Napoleon complex and hadn’t got along with any of the pigs we had tried him with. As we walked around, peering into cages, we tried not to fall in love with any of the pigs, trying not to be to hopeful that this time we could find one that Milo would accept. When we reached the last cage, it appeared to be empty, until we saw the piece of hay twitching, leading into the mouth of a huge piggy, chewing, terrified, in the corner of the igloo. As much as I tried not to be sucked in, those huge puppy eyes were impossible not to fall for. After much scurrying around the cage, the rescue attending was able to retract the large yellow blob from the hay and shavings. He was placed in the pen with Milo, towel at the ready to break of the seemingly inevitable fighting. It didn’t come. After only a few seconds of butt-wiggling and rumble strutting, the yellow piggy laid down in the corner in the pen, quickly followed by Milo. We were astonished.

An hour later, we were in the car with the pigs, an extra-large igloo, and a wealth of information. He was half Cuy, a large, wild breed of guinea pig. Because of this, he would be very skittish. His name was Charlie.

Two years is an incredibly short amount of time to spend with a precious family member. At first, Charlie was terrified of everything. Hay. Treats. His own shadow. Slowly, and with Milo by his side, we had the privilege of seeing our darling boy come out of his shell. First, it was that he wouldn’t bolt when we entered the room. Then, he started eating in our presence. Just the week before he passed, we heard him wheek for the first time.

Then, only two days after his 2nd adoption birthday, we found our baby seizing on the floor of the cage. Crying, we rushed to the vet, but when it was obvious he was crossing over, we stopped the car in a lovely little park. We wrapped him in a blanket and took him out under the stars. He took his last breath as we sang to him….

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…. you make me happy when skies are grey…”

And he was just that. For two years, I had the blessing of having my own personal ray of sunshine. I am so glad that he was able to spend his time with us, but even more, I am glad we got to spend our time with him. You know those bumper stickers that say “Who saved who?” Charlie rescued me, he rescued Milo. He was my snuggle buddy during long nights of work and a perfect photo model. More than that, he was a beloved family member. He had such soft ears that flopped when he ran and one black lip, how I miss those things. He taught me so much. For such a small animal, here for such a little time, it is incredible the impact he made. Nothing I can say here can explain what he meant to me. Our house isn’t the same without him. We all miss him so much.

xoxo Charlie, My Yellow Little Lump, Fly Free my Darling.