I found Bubba dead in his little wooden house this morning. He was about five and a half years old. Depending on which book or website you believe, average lifespan for guinea pigs is 5 to 7, 3 to 6, or 6 to 8 years, so he pretty much had a full guinea pig life. This wasn’t a complete surprise, as he clearly wasn’t feeling well last night–he didn’t go over to the greens rack to devour his lettuce like usual, though he did eat a couple pieces handed to him and eagerly took the yogurt drop I offered. Before I went to bed last night, he declined a carrot piece and I petted him and told him I hoped he felt better in the morning. And maybe he does feel better now–if there’s a guinea pig heaven, he’s probably there munching his favorite foods and enjoying not being thwarted in his desire to hide under the microwave cart.
Addendum: I had a hard time choosing when I went looking for a better picture for this entry to replace the one I put up when I first posted it, so I made an album.
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