Someone very dear to me passed away on Saturday night, and I am completely bereft. She embodied so many of the qualities I admire in a friend. She listened twice as much as she spoke, she was so humble despite her obvious specialness, and she was never the source of conflict. She was a quiet fighter, filled to the very brim with a darling innocence you had to experience to understand. Ruby was her name, and she was a guinea pig I was fortunate to share just over a year with.
Dear Ruby (right) hiding behind Abigail
I don’t know where Ruby came from, except to say that wherever it was, she hadn’t been shown much love by humans. The presence of a hand (even one offering food!) was enough to send both her and her sister Abigail running to the furthest corners of their pen. While Abigail is the more confident alpha, Ruby was the unassuming, shy girl, forever hiding behind her big sister. It was a slow process, but little by little, they began to trust us. They had no reason in the world to, but they did anyway. What an honour.
I had always felt a particular fondness for Ruby, though I love my other three ladies and their endearing idiosyncrasies too. But Ruby was the underdog. The smallest, the mildest, the first one butted away from the food. After the first time Ruby got sick (it turned out she had a massive bladder stone), I bonded with her in a way I just haven’t with other animals. Thanks to a rigorous medication schedule, I was literally able to help to make her well again. As her “nurse”, I felt our connection deepening, and I know she felt it too, as evidenced by the way she began to come flying towards me each time I came into the room, wheeking and squealing.
To love someone so small, someone who never grows out of their fragility, is such a unique experience. Holding a little 700 gram being in your hands, and so many times teetering on the edge of losing her, it was such a relief the way we always managed to bring her home again. And before you could say “who-wants-a-blueberry?” she’d be good as new, clucking and squealing and occasionally even popcorning.
Ruby was so strong. After passing that bladder stone, it was so undoubtedly painful that our vet welled up as she tried to describe what this must have felt like. We realized we had a real fighter in our midst.
I don’t want to write about what happened when she got sick this time. It is too fresh, too sad, too traumatic, too many questions still unanswered. No cancer, no heart disease, but instead, symptoms that indicated Addison’s Disease, which made her the first guinea pig on record to present with these symptoms. (Sadly, it could be that most people simply don’t allow their guinea pig to live long enough to present the symptoms.)
Though we’d nursed her back to health so many times, this time I instantly knew something different was wrong. I walked into their room, giving them their usual breakfast announcement (“Babies! Blueberrrrries!”) to which they all run out of the pen to greet me, trying to scamper up the side and out. But Ruby didn’t appear. Then I heard a quiet, muted squeal. A very subdued version of the squeal she always greeted me with in the morning, and I peered under the ramp and saw her. Her head heavy, her body limp. She looked as though she’d been paralyzed. Within five minutes we were en route to the emergency vet, and 48 hours later, mere moments after we arrived home from visiting her in the hospital, our vet called to say she had passed. Quietly, unassumingly– she went just as she lived.
One of the greatest sadnesses about someone like Ruby dying, is that she was pure innocence. She existed in her own little way, caused no harm to anyone, and yet her life was cut mercilessly short, proof to me that the universe truly is cold and random. Eduardo Galeano talks about how we live in an “upside down” world, and the fact that the Rubys of the world are stolen so quickly, while those profiteering from violence and oppression can (and often do) live lives too long and too effortless, is all the proof I need of such a fact.
Ruby mattered. She’ll always matter to me. I deeply hope she knew that. There are so many things I wish I could tell her, and make her understand.
Ruby, did you know how much I love you? Did you know how much you matter to me? How dear your every squeal was? I have memorized all of you, and play it back to myself now. Your timid approach from out of your hutch, nose held high, trying to sort out what it was I had for you. I knew your call from your sisters’ distinctly, even from the other end of the apartment. Do you know how very special each thing about you is to me?
What do I do now with all that’s left? Where does all the love I have for you go? It certainly doesn’t dissipate into thin air, but it isn’t something I can simply transfer into someone else. Well, that may not be entirely true. The only true moments of peace I have known since you got sick were when we walked the dogs along the bluffs, or through Cherry Beach. All my other time requires the utmost distraction, or I come apart at the very remembrance of your passing, like a punch in the stomach I can count on again and again. Undone by the smallest reminder of you, finding the wash cloth I wiped your mouth with so many times (when we had to feed you Critical Care). The stains are still there. I’ve tucked it away into one of my drawers, I could never just go on using it again. I’ll keep it with me always, as a reminder of you, that you were a good and beautiful person who existed, and as a symbol of the purest kind of love that is possible: unflinching, unwavering, steadfast love. On days when I cease to remember that I am capable of good things, I’ll look at that washcloth, and remember how many times I snuck into your room, to give you your medicine, how I fell in love with the way you looked when I rolled you in a towel and laid you on your back to feed you. I will remember that I was your guardian, and I did my best to give you a good life. No amount of money would have stopped us from trying to heal you, nor would the looks from people who just didn’t understand it.
Ruby, I was your guardian, the one who kept you fed and safe and warm and content. Hopefully, you were even happy most of the time. I think you probably were. I was the guardian of your gorgeous life, and for the rest of my days, I will be the guardian of your sweet memory. You will never be forgotten, not for a moment. Sadly, this is the closest thing to immortality we can offer one another, dear sweetheart. I will never forget who you are. Ruby, you are gone from this world, but you are not gone inside me.
If you have ever loved a guinea pig, or any other mammal for that matter, please consider familiarizing yourself with the issue of vivisection (animal experimentation). You’ll be shocked to learn that so many of the things we use on a daily basis are tested on animals just like Ruby. Check out an old blog post about this here, as well as the must-see-forthcoming film Maximum Tolerated Dose. My interview with the director Karol Orzechowski can be found here. If you currently love a guinea pig, please ensure they have lots of space, the best quality hay and pellets, and the comfiest digs a pig could hope for. And please– adopt, don’t buy your companions!
“We who choose to surround ourselves with lives even more temporary than our own, live within a fragile circle; easily and often breached. Unable to accept its awful gaps, we would still live no other way.”- Irving Townsend
What a beautiful tribute. I’m so sorry for your loss.It’s not the size of the animal, it’s their individuality. I get it. And I’m sorry.
Thanks, Debra. I know you know how special she was. And thank you for all your support the last couple of weeks. You’re a good friend.
Beautiful Shannon…..how lucky Ruby was to have you(& Joseph) in her life & how lucky you were to have her…. <3
Thank you, Susan. It means a lot coming from someone who gives so much for animals every day. I can’t wait to visit soon, I could use some fresh air and some cow kisses!
i’m so sorry for your loss.
Thank you, Anna. I know you know what a special lady she was.
The death of our beloved companions can knock us to our knees. Been there. Many, many times. I know I will experience that same bone crushing pain again some day as I watch our variety of adored beasties age but I would never, ever trade the inevitable sorrow for the joy and love that each day brings. Grieve with your heart wide open. Your despair may be convincing you that the Universe is cold and random – permit me to know on your behalf, from the core of my vegan being, that the opposite is true (yeah ok, some inhabitants definitely fit that description). For whatever reason you and Ruby found each other and shared a fantastic life, for however seemingly brief. What a gift – a gift that you were open to receive. Know that. I am so,so sorry for your loss.
Tannis, thank you so much for this. I believe it is my despair convincing me the universe is cold and random. Prior to Ruby’s death, I rarely felt that way, and definitely not in a profound, certain way. You have no idea how much your words mean. I take them all to heart, and appreciate you taking the time to share them with me. Thank you so much.
That tribute deeply, I found it difficult to finish although I needed to!
I understand your love for Ruby! I too had a special friend named ‘Cupcake’. A beautiful little soul wrapped in a furry hamster body! I had many names for him but I mostly called him ‘My best friend the Cup’!
I had to have him put to sleep two weeks ago and I am heart broken about it! It’s too difficult to write about it!
Anyway, like you and Ruby, Cup came into my life because he was deserted in an abandoned apartment and I had him for a short 15 months. I miss his sweet face, big round ears that opened fully when he was wide awake and full of beans! I manage to video him one day cleaning himself and I have never seen anything so cute in my life, I loved him dearly,I miss him every day, he was a blessing in my life, I’m lucky to have known him!
Thanks for writing that, it’s nice to know other
people feel that way about these wonderful little friends!
Rest in peace Ruby and Cupcake <3
Vicky, I am so sorry to hear about Cup passing (what a darling name!) I so appreciate that you took the time to remind me that I am lucky to have known Ruby, even if I feel she was stolen from me too soon. I will try to remind myself of that when I begin to feel sad again. I feel so privileged that I got to share time with her at all, let alone a year. I can’t tell you how lovely it is to know that people like you are out there, loving these little beings with their hearts wide open. Thank you. We love you Ruby and Cupcake. <3
I can’t imagine Ruby didn’t feel the love and care you surrounded her in. I’m so sorry … It’s a great loss. Sending love.
B and C
Thank you so much. It is a great comfort to me to believe she felt loved and cared for. Thank you. <3
So sorry to hear of the loss of your dear Ruby. I have loved several rescued rabbits and what you described in your post is exactly how I felt. Ruby will look down from the Rainbow Bridge and tell the other pets what a wonderful friend and caretaker she had…
Hi Samantha. Thank you for sharing your story with me. One of the most comforting parts of this whole experience, is finding out how “not alone” I am. That so many other people have had these same connections, loved this deeply. It isn’t that I believe myself to be so empathetic, it’s just that I can’t imagine the grief disappearing so it’s hard to imagine that other people could ever move on. I know that I will eventually start to feel normal again, of course. But it just doesn’t feel that way. Thank you.
Thank you for sharing Ruby’s story. This made me break down. My heart goes out to you. I’m so sorry for your loss.
Oh, Gurleen– thank you for reading. It makes me so happy that Ruby’s story has been shared with others. I am certain you would have adored one another. Thank you for your words.
What a beautiful tribute to sweet Ruby. My heart goes to yours. Losing someone is such a difficult thing to go through and sometimes the memories that we get to cherish don’t seem like enough. But remember, you were so much to Ruby, you can tell from the bond you experienced, from her action and her squeaks. There is no doubt in my mind that she loved you dearly and would thank you for all you did for her in your time together.
Thank you, Nora. This is such a comforting thought to me, you have no idea how much it means. And you’re right, the memories don’t feel like enough. But I am so thankful I got to spend any time with her. Thank you so much for your words, from the bottom of my heart.
Dearest Shannon — I’m so sorry for your loss. What a beautiful tribute to Ruby. We’re so lucky to have people like you in the world who love so deeply and can express that love so profoundly. xo, K.
Thank you, Kimberly. I know you would have loved her, and she would have adored you. Thank you for reading. XO
Sending love and comfort yours and Joseph’s way.
Your tribute to Ruby made me cry. I believe that Ruby was so fortunate to have had you and Joseph as her companions and caregivers. The love you gave her sustained her to the very last moment. Both Ruby’s and all our lives have been enriched because of this tribute to someone so small yet mighty in words. Proud of you Shan. Your tribute made me go and squeeze Monty, Marra and Dixie with so much love and appreciation for the privilege of sharing our lives with them. <3
Thanks, Mom. You know how special Ruby was, and how much of a fighter she was. It means a lot that you understand my grief, so I don’t feel like I need to hide it. You said it right– it is a privilege to share our lives with them. Moments like this make you want to never take that for granted. XO.
Dear Shannon, I have read your article at break at work, and am in tears. I have loved and lost like you with Ruby. My heart aches for you, as those memories come rushing back and remind me of all of the urns of ashes I hold so dear. Ruby was/is so incredibly special. Thank you for sharing your heart and for sharing Ruby with us.
Thank you, Lorena. I know how many you have lost and how deeply you loved them too. You have no idea how much your words mean to me, and how comforting it is to know that others feel my pain. I miss Ruby dearly, am so grateful for the time we shared together, and am so thankful for my community and all their comforting words. Thank you, Lorena. <3
I understand your loss and pain.I have loved many furry beings of all sizes and all of them live on in my memory and for that instant they are there with me. After their deaths, there have been signs they are still with me,still listening and loving. Look for that sign.
I understand your loss and pain. I have loved and been loved by many nights in furry armor. After their physical deaths, there have been signs that they are still there- listening and loving. Look for that sign.
Thank you, Thomas. I will keep my eyes and heart open for such a sign. Your words are very comforting. Thank you.
I meant knights, you made me cry.
I’m a storyteller but you are a writer. I’m great with attention getting but you really know how to grasp the feelings and communicate them. I don’t like reading this. I don’t like knowing that i’m not the only one and it happens to others. I’m reflecting. I’ve had so many it’s hard to keep count. The special rescue, the awesome rescue, my dearest baby, the brat and ruler. Quite a few guinea pigs have an aching heart sitting here wondering why I don’t get a deep connection to some and not all and why it was so easy to find them but so hard to let them go. I have 4 girls left. None of them have those special spots that I’ve held with Chloe, Emerson, Coco or Her Royal Highness Princess Cabrielle Ruler of all She Surveys
Thank you for your compliments. It isn’t hard to write when you have as wonderful a muse as Ruby. Your girls sound very lucky to have you. It means so much to know you have grieved this way too. Thank you.
i’m so happy that she fell into your hands. i don’t even want to begin to imagine the short and painful life she would’ve had without you.
i read the article earlier today through watery eyes and decided to come back to leave this comment, and after scrolling through other people’s responses and the ways it has affected them i teared up all over again (i’m not afraid to tear up but it doesn’t happen all the time, honest!). we have all experienced losses of our own and have our own ways of dealing with them, and we will find that quite a few will have similar reactions and coping methods. that said, i link to paleovegan’s article below about the way he views his father’s death not for people to subscribe to his method of coping, but to share someone’s rather unique and touching (to me) perspective of death and loss (or gain?).
http://paleovegan.blogspot.ca/2011/01/deep-time-sanctity-of-death.html
ps. i lost it when you linked to that calvin and hobbes strip. he captured beauty, innocence and emotions so, so well. just like you.
Oh, Jon. That is SUCH a gorgeous piece. I had never read it. Thank you so much for sharing it with me.
And thank you for taking care of Ruby and the rest of our family all the times you did. You know how deep my love for my companions goes, but we never once worry when we leave them in your care. Your gigantic heart (the best of the very best star-stuff, for sure) makes you an ideal guardian, and an ideal friend.
I so appreciate you helping me to shape the way I am carrying this grief. I welcome it with opens arms, as it doesn’t sit well with me that currently my psyche sees death as this hellish, all-consuming, evil force bent on destroying everyone I love. I will refer back to this often, and couldn’t be more appreciative of you for sharing it.
You’re such a dear friend.
Yes, that Calvin and Hobbes strip is my very favourite. I thought of it so many times while awaiting news on Ruby, and couldn’t help but marvel at the ability he had to accurately pinpoint exactly what it is we feel when we grieve. Sure, it was told in the voice of a “child”, but death makes us all children.
A wonderful tribute to a lovely girl by a lovely woman. We’ll miss Ruby, and hope Abigail and the other guinea pigs aren’t mourning her loss too strongly. I can’t imagine better or more caring family members than you and Joseph. Lots of love. V&C&J&T&P
Thank you so much, Victoria. I am so thankful for the times we left them in your care, how safe we felt doing so, and I am so happy you got to know them all. Abigail is a bit off, it’s hard to know the extent to which she understands why. It feels different in there now. Ruby brought such a balancing energy to our three hyper, assertive ladies. I know in time everything will feel “normal” again, but it really is different right now. Thank you for your kind words, it was such a lovely message to wake up to. XO.
This brought to mind what Queen Elizabeth of England said at the funeral of Diana, Princess of Wales: “The price we pay for love is grief.” I don’t know where I found this poem – it was several years ago – but I’d like to share it here. RIP Ruby – such a gorgeous little creature.
Goodbye From A Friend – by Anon
Dry your tears,
Don’t cry for me,
I’m running with the wind
And free.
Though you may see the quiet
Still paws
While my body sleeps
My spirit soars.
How beautiful. :)
Thank you so much for sharing. What a price it is, but worth every bit of it.
I found this entry while researching “Addison’s and “veganism” because I have Addison’s disease and was wondering if veganism could be healthy for me. I stumbled on this blog, and I admit it, it made me cry like a baby. I am so sorry for your loss. Ruby was absolutely darling. At least know that your love made all the difference for her. She went from being abused to being wonderfully cared for and knowing that she was loved. Addison’s can result in very sudden death, and there likely wasn’t anything you could do to prevent hers, but at least you made her life sweet, and I hope that’s a consolation.
Thank you so much for your kind comment, Cheyenne. That is so sweet of you to reach out. Ruby was a darling, and I miss her every single day, it hasn’t waned one bit. For anything health-related to veganism, I recommend Nutrition Facts (http://nutritionfacts.org/). It’s an amazing, non-commercial site that looks at the balance of nutritional evidence. You may find some useful info there. Thanks again for writing me, it means a lot. :)
Thank you so much for your reply, and for the link to Nutrition Facts. I’ll check it out! Take care, and blessings to you!