Johan had a lot of trouble getting into his cage tonight. When it was past time for him to be back, he was under the rolling pantry, laying down in the sort of posture that looked like a bored and sad animal with nothing to do. He couldn't seem to figure out how to get up his ramp and into his cage. He's had that in the past, more so recently, and I do think it might be because I moved his cage and he is under the ceiling fan so maybe the smells being wafted about confused him.
But I take him very seriously. I have a piece of paper in my wallet these days directing emergency staff, should I be in a horrible accident, to either call Boss or J, give them my house key and address (both old and new are listed with dates of when I'll be where) and to please have them take him to his vet and have him boarded because I don't want him to be left alone. The idea of his dying is, of course repellant, and it has been on my mind because I had to ask J.
I had to ask J, "do you want me to notify you if Johan dies?"
And because I've emailed that question, I let my imagination run rampant with what will happen when Johan goes. He's 3 years old now and guinea pigs live, on average, 4 to 5 years. Some live longer but you have to be prepared. All I know is that I will be a mess, I will have to stay home from work if it is a week day, and I will be in shambles.
These are ridiculous and painful things you have to think about as an adult. And I hate it.
UPDATED
Transcript of the very brief email correspondence regarding Johan.
From Me to J:
Jokes on him though. I totally texted him a picture of the pig.
But I take him very seriously. I have a piece of paper in my wallet these days directing emergency staff, should I be in a horrible accident, to either call Boss or J, give them my house key and address (both old and new are listed with dates of when I'll be where) and to please have them take him to his vet and have him boarded because I don't want him to be left alone. The idea of his dying is, of course repellant, and it has been on my mind because I had to ask J.
I had to ask J, "do you want me to notify you if Johan dies?"
And because I've emailed that question, I let my imagination run rampant with what will happen when Johan goes. He's 3 years old now and guinea pigs live, on average, 4 to 5 years. Some live longer but you have to be prepared. All I know is that I will be a mess, I will have to stay home from work if it is a week day, and I will be in shambles.
These are ridiculous and painful things you have to think about as an adult. And I hate it.
UPDATED
Transcript of the very brief email correspondence regarding Johan.
From Me to J:
"Do you want me to let you know if Johan dies? He's just over 3 years old and the expected life is 4-5 years. He really struggled with getting back into his cage, like he couldn't remember how and it took forever. This doesn't necessarily mean anything but it's been on my mind to ask you if you wanted to know.From J to Me:
I'm hoping he was just confused by smells because of the ceiling fan."
"He's fat. He can't even get back in his pig jail."And that is seriously all he said on the matter. It's a good thing though, because it means he is OK to talk to me now, or at least better than he was. Because he knew damn well what kind of response that would elicit (namely me cyber yelling at him about how the pig is NOT fat and the cage is NOT pig prison and Johan LIKES his cage).
Jokes on him though. I totally texted him a picture of the pig.
I have notified exh when 2 of our pets passed on (Abby and Ko Ko). I don't think he has or will do the same for me, but I felt it was the right thing to do too.
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