Guinea Pig Remembered

I always write a piece about my Guinea Pig on the 7th of each month and today marks 10 months since he left us. An ‘earthquake’ shook Melbourne CBD last night. It measured 4.6 on the Richter scale. I was on the couch and felt a bump first. I called out to M but he didn’t seem bothered by it at all. Then I felt like the couch lifted me to the right before returning to its original position. That’s when we panicked a little. We ran out to the balcony to see if anyone else is reacting to the shakes. A few households did but others continued to party on or stared at their plasmas. While others are happy to use the clouds as a doona if the sky falls on top of them, I reacted by packing my backpack. LOL. I put on my shoes (have you seen people caught up in an emergency with no shoes on?) and then pack our essentials into the backpack. Our Guinea Pig’s urn (supposedly containing its ashes) and photo book were packed first. There was even room for our mascot. LOL. The packed bag stayed by our bed overnight just in case we have to flee our pigeon hole. Since I am still here blogging away, it is obvious that nothing else happened after those two tremors. Thank goodness. This morning, one of our neighbours and the caretaker asked us to check and see if there are any leaks. I promptly check under the kitchen sink, the water heater, the laundry and the shower area to make sure that we are not getting another flood.

I spoke to my parents on the phone on Wednesday. I was upset and teary because I was worried about them. It is not easy to live so far away from them. My dad is booked into the hospital this Monday for 12 days of ‘observation’ before a knee replacement surgery on the 21st. They keep telling me not to worry but it breaks my heart for not being there physically. In a bid to try to cheer me up, my mum asked about the Guinea Pig. We never told my side of the family about my Guinea Pig’s passing. I didn’t think they would understand my affection for my little friend and I definitely didn’t want to ‘deal’ with their reaction and questions if I told them about my Guinea Pig’s supposedly ‘botched up’ cremation. Her question upset me even further. After I told her that he passed away nearly 10 months ago, she was shocked and asked what happened. I told her that I didn’t wish to talk about it and luckily she respected that. She did query as to why I thought she wouldn’t understand. I could tell that she soon realised that she hadn’t asked about our Guinea Pig for a while. I think the last time we talked about him was in April last year. Our Guinea Pig used to disrupt my phone conversations by joining in. He would squeak away from his cage probably thinking that I was talking to him when I was actually on the phone. LOL

Years of living away from home and years of adopting a new way of life in another country have brought a lot of changes into our lives. Of course we welcome and celebrate the good changes but I tend to bottle up all the negative ones. Gradually, there is an ever increasing amount of ‘stuff’ that my family do not know about me. Not expressing oneself / whingeing is probably why the suicide rate is climbing.

Before I start to cry for the rest of the day, I am off to wash dishes and clean the bathroom.