2 yrs really?

You know, it's still really hard. I lost a beloved pet back in 2009, and I'm still crying right around the same time. 2 years ago I lost a very special friend, and I still think about him. Oct. 27th, Lt Dan (Danny) my guinea pig had lost his finally battle with a respetory illness. I was devastated.

I had adopted him six years before and about six months in, he got really sick. My vet said I should put him down, but maybe I was being selfish, I couldn't do it. Other than the occational wheezing, that piggy was spoiled rotten. So I nursed him. He got better. He defied what odd the vet gave him and I got another five years. He was my constant friend. I loved coming home from work and pulling him onto my bed, just so I could unwind. He was the best listener, especially when I was having it out with my ex. He loved nothing more than to sit on my shoulder and nuzzle me, like he understood. Or hide in my hoodie pocket keeping my fingers warm. On and off we battled his 2nd degree pneumonia, well after I got up the strength to walk away from my ex. Sometimes I think Danny waited. He wanted to make sure I was ok. Because those were some dark days- right after the final break. Danny would bring me out of my darkness with his squeals of "you're home! You're home!" my mom thought it was the funniest thing in the world that he knew when I got home. He always did. And he also knew I would be bringing him some treat too-usually a pepper or apple.

The night he passed I remember, I had come home early from work and decided to order out. While waiting I pulled danny out to cuddle a bit. He seemed more tired than usual, but more than happy to snuggle. I returned him to his cage when I went to retreave the food and it wasn't until I was done and had returns to pull him out again did I see him labor with breathing. I tried to clear his nasle passage way and even went as far as using his medical dropped to help push air into his lungs, but even as he lay gasping on my bed and I knew he was slipping, I got the feeling that he was just glad I was there, trying. Even though it was hopeless. That was the hardest part, trying and feeling him slip away. Mom said it was meant to be. But all I wanted was Danny to breathe. Thankfully I still lived at home then. I doubt I could have buried him on my own. My dad told me I would not be in the right frame of mind and I wasn't. I didn't start really sobbing until I had returned to my room. And it just seems that right around his death anniversary I get choked up. I mean I had gotten a beta fish who sits with me at work, but you can't pet a fish.

I know I want another pig, but I hesitate because I live with my sister, and she had a serious allergic reaction when I got around to cleaning out his stuff. I really want another little buddy because she has her fiancé and can see Indy (the family dog) daily when she goes to work. I don't have that. my current bf is on the opposite coast and I get to see him a month out of the year. And because we moved out she doesn't have to worry about reporting to our mother so she can come home whenever, but for me, walking into an empty home is a sad thing. Thankfully, I haven't resorted to covering my fridge with take out menues. Not that I ever will, ordering out annoys me half the time.