29th June 2011.
It was 10:40 in the morning, a rather ordinary morning, just another day, except for the fact that clouds were gathered. Signs of ominous tidings?
After waking up some forty minutes earlier, I planted myself in front of the T.V, surfing and checking the movies lined up for the day, only to realise there wasn't anything great lined-up. Slightly disappointed, I put down the glass I held on a side table- its content now swirling in my system, and took a quite bite. I popped in a med for my tonsillitis- it was getting better now, I almost felt no pain, and might just get savour my favourite junk again, sooner than expected. The thought cheered me up, and then turned to my pet guinea pigs- Romeo and Juliet. Last night they had played around for the first time in 5 days, after five bitter, agonizing days for us. It had all begun last Thursday when during a routine visit to the Vet (to get their nails trimmed) we got to know they were suffering from Urinary Tract Infection, and thus the doctor prescribed Sporidex for the. The usually bubbly and playful (not to mention exceptionally hungry) Cavys started behaving odd and were lethargic most of the time in the next few days, seldom wheeking, infrequently eating, sitting at one place continuously for long periods, not moving, seldom playing. Surely I had been worried, we all were, and finally yesterday had taken them to a Vet who prescribed some medicines. Though the two took them after a great deal of struggle, the results were immediate. The last night, they, especially Romeo (realised later she was a female, rechristened her Romi), had played to the heart's content, after which they had treated themselves to pellets and cucumbers and tomatoes and other stuff we had kept in their cage. It was obvious that they were returning to their normal self, and obviously, we were happy. 'Pets have this strange ability of completely changing our lives for the short duration of time they're a part of it, so much so that our world begins to revolve around them. Even the most trivial of issues plaguing them can steal your sleep….'
Feeling good, I returned to my room in search of my cell, about to start what was promising to be long and savage battle, considering what a mess my room generally is in. After searching the most obvious of places, I made to open my closet when my eyes fell upon a very unnatural sight, a sight which I may never forget.
At the foot of the bed lay my Romeo and Juliet's cage. Nothing unusual here. But it was what lay inside which wrenched my heart, and set-in a fear, a strange, chilling fear. Slowly, tentatively, I took a step towards it. I already knew what awaited me, but still prayed silently, fervently, hoping for my intuition to be wrong. Alas, it was not to be. There lay Romi, strangely spread-eagled, her limbs outstretched at odd angles, her eyes strangely blank. She wasn't moving, wasn't breathing. I tapped the cage lightly, just enough to cause her to scramble into her cloth. She didn't move. I touched her. She was stiff. Stiff as a cane. Silently weeping, voice breaking, lips trembling, I cried out for my sister, sleeping peacefully. She woke with a start.
'Romi hil nahi rahi.' Romi isn't moving. I said.
'Kya?' What? She asked, but I knew then she had already realised it. The gravity of my words dawned on her. She came scrambling to where I was. She peered in, and then was let loose a vortex of emotions. Very different emotions. For her, it was the sheer loss of her pet, which she held dear. For me, it was because of regret, of guilt, of remembrance, of missing someone. It was because one of the most endearing and wonderful pets, Romeo had died suddenly, just when we had begun to feel that they both were recovering from whatever had caused them to lose weight and grow lethargic and dull, leaving a gaping void in our lives. '… and then suddenly, when it's is most unexpected (often) they silently slip away… leaving us with a heartache that is too painful to subside.'
Romi did the same to me, to my family. For the short five months she was with us, our world evolved around her and Julie. She became the morning alarm, waking me up with her incessant wheeking for food… she became the favourite past-time, watching her hop around, run around, hide in the corners, dart from one part of the cage/room to the other- Juliet always watching over. She wasn't young, nor was she old- merely five months. She was loud, naughty, active and attention seeking. And we loved every part of it. She would hid under the cloth they would sneak into when they slept at the instance someone unknown entered my room, or when someone made to open the cage. When it was play time, she would follow Juliet everywhere, sniffing her back side, and running for cover at the slightest noise. One of her favourite past times, when not hiding under a cloth or in a corner, was to tug at the cloth we keep in their cage with her two sharp teeth until she was able to pull it out completely. No one loved her more than Juliet I guess. She even let Romi snatch even last bit of pellets, cucumber, tomato and other things we gave them. It was as if even she knew Romi was the younger of the two, and hence should be allowed to have her way. A doting elder sister Juliet was still is... only Romi isn't there to receive her love.
I feel guilty, regretful. When they cavys first came, I was reluctant to touch them, not letting them on my bed, fighting to keep them off the floor, because they soiled it. I regret the time I wasted, because when I finally fell in love with them, it was to be for a very small time. And even when I did, I ignored Romi. She was the smaller, the chirpier, playful… cheerful… She would scramble around incessantly, trying to get away from the loving hand of my sister or mother. She would bite real hard (Juliet licks your finger). Now when I look back, I realise how close she had grown to me. Turning back the pages, I realise that she would understand my simple commands, most notably when I brought something to eat in my room (I always do that, coz I NEED something to read when I am eating) and she would start wheeking for something to eat… I would say, 'NAHI.' And all of a sudden, she would go all silent, looking hopefully at me, her mouth raised up. It had become almost a ritual for me to give them some of my salad first and then eat.
It's perhaps that Romi, wheeking for food upon seeing me eating something that I'll always miss.
Juliet is presently living alone, lonely and dull. Evidently, she too is feeling the pain of losing a companion. She still doesn't eat much, drinks less, and sits at the same place for long hours without moving. Her cage has been changed, room changed, feeding timings changed…. In short, she has been given a completely new environment so that she can focus on what's new
and not concentrate on what's missing.
A latter visit to another Vet, who has had past experience of dealing with Guinean Pigs, revealed that it, was the medication which killed Romi. Amoxylin, an antibiotic, is the most lethal drug you can possibly give to your cavy (we didn't knew this. Most of the first time Cavy-owners don't) and those Vet who don't normally deal with these angels often, unsuspectingly, recommend these drugs for them. Juliet survived. It's luck. She's recuperating now, being administered another medicine to counter the effects of the deadly antibiotic. Was this the reason they weren't taking amoxylin easily and struggled a lot? I wish, we wish, we had known.
The knowledge that possible they weren't suffering from any disease of any kind, that no medicine was needed, that they were always healthy, and that Romi died because of carelessness will always bother us. Her innocent face, wheeking and looking at me hopefully forever etched on my mind. Juliet will soon get another companion, provided she recovers from the devastating effects of the antibiotic, but the void created by Romi's demise shall never be filled. Again.
"Death is the hardest thing,
Not for those who have passed,
But for those who are left behind."
"And now I know,
How much I'll miss you… the sight of your frail,
Limp body, placed in front of my eyes."
It was 10:40 in the morning, a rather ordinary morning, just another day, except for the fact that clouds were gathered. Signs of ominous tidings?
After waking up some forty minutes earlier, I planted myself in front of the T.V, surfing and checking the movies lined up for the day, only to realise there wasn't anything great lined-up. Slightly disappointed, I put down the glass I held on a side table- its content now swirling in my system, and took a quite bite. I popped in a med for my tonsillitis- it was getting better now, I almost felt no pain, and might just get savour my favourite junk again, sooner than expected. The thought cheered me up, and then turned to my pet guinea pigs- Romeo and Juliet. Last night they had played around for the first time in 5 days, after five bitter, agonizing days for us. It had all begun last Thursday when during a routine visit to the Vet (to get their nails trimmed) we got to know they were suffering from Urinary Tract Infection, and thus the doctor prescribed Sporidex for the. The usually bubbly and playful (not to mention exceptionally hungry) Cavys started behaving odd and were lethargic most of the time in the next few days, seldom wheeking, infrequently eating, sitting at one place continuously for long periods, not moving, seldom playing. Surely I had been worried, we all were, and finally yesterday had taken them to a Vet who prescribed some medicines. Though the two took them after a great deal of struggle, the results were immediate. The last night, they, especially Romeo (realised later she was a female, rechristened her Romi), had played to the heart's content, after which they had treated themselves to pellets and cucumbers and tomatoes and other stuff we had kept in their cage. It was obvious that they were returning to their normal self, and obviously, we were happy. 'Pets have this strange ability of completely changing our lives for the short duration of time they're a part of it, so much so that our world begins to revolve around them. Even the most trivial of issues plaguing them can steal your sleep….'
Feeling good, I returned to my room in search of my cell, about to start what was promising to be long and savage battle, considering what a mess my room generally is in. After searching the most obvious of places, I made to open my closet when my eyes fell upon a very unnatural sight, a sight which I may never forget.
At the foot of the bed lay my Romeo and Juliet's cage. Nothing unusual here. But it was what lay inside which wrenched my heart, and set-in a fear, a strange, chilling fear. Slowly, tentatively, I took a step towards it. I already knew what awaited me, but still prayed silently, fervently, hoping for my intuition to be wrong. Alas, it was not to be. There lay Romi, strangely spread-eagled, her limbs outstretched at odd angles, her eyes strangely blank. She wasn't moving, wasn't breathing. I tapped the cage lightly, just enough to cause her to scramble into her cloth. She didn't move. I touched her. She was stiff. Stiff as a cane. Silently weeping, voice breaking, lips trembling, I cried out for my sister, sleeping peacefully. She woke with a start.
'Romi hil nahi rahi.' Romi isn't moving. I said.
'Kya?' What? She asked, but I knew then she had already realised it. The gravity of my words dawned on her. She came scrambling to where I was. She peered in, and then was let loose a vortex of emotions. Very different emotions. For her, it was the sheer loss of her pet, which she held dear. For me, it was because of regret, of guilt, of remembrance, of missing someone. It was because one of the most endearing and wonderful pets, Romeo had died suddenly, just when we had begun to feel that they both were recovering from whatever had caused them to lose weight and grow lethargic and dull, leaving a gaping void in our lives. '… and then suddenly, when it's is most unexpected (often) they silently slip away… leaving us with a heartache that is too painful to subside.'
Romi did the same to me, to my family. For the short five months she was with us, our world evolved around her and Julie. She became the morning alarm, waking me up with her incessant wheeking for food… she became the favourite past-time, watching her hop around, run around, hide in the corners, dart from one part of the cage/room to the other- Juliet always watching over. She wasn't young, nor was she old- merely five months. She was loud, naughty, active and attention seeking. And we loved every part of it. She would hid under the cloth they would sneak into when they slept at the instance someone unknown entered my room, or when someone made to open the cage. When it was play time, she would follow Juliet everywhere, sniffing her back side, and running for cover at the slightest noise. One of her favourite past times, when not hiding under a cloth or in a corner, was to tug at the cloth we keep in their cage with her two sharp teeth until she was able to pull it out completely. No one loved her more than Juliet I guess. She even let Romi snatch even last bit of pellets, cucumber, tomato and other things we gave them. It was as if even she knew Romi was the younger of the two, and hence should be allowed to have her way. A doting elder sister Juliet was still is... only Romi isn't there to receive her love.
I feel guilty, regretful. When they cavys first came, I was reluctant to touch them, not letting them on my bed, fighting to keep them off the floor, because they soiled it. I regret the time I wasted, because when I finally fell in love with them, it was to be for a very small time. And even when I did, I ignored Romi. She was the smaller, the chirpier, playful… cheerful… She would scramble around incessantly, trying to get away from the loving hand of my sister or mother. She would bite real hard (Juliet licks your finger). Now when I look back, I realise how close she had grown to me. Turning back the pages, I realise that she would understand my simple commands, most notably when I brought something to eat in my room (I always do that, coz I NEED something to read when I am eating) and she would start wheeking for something to eat… I would say, 'NAHI.' And all of a sudden, she would go all silent, looking hopefully at me, her mouth raised up. It had become almost a ritual for me to give them some of my salad first and then eat.
It's perhaps that Romi, wheeking for food upon seeing me eating something that I'll always miss.
Juliet is presently living alone, lonely and dull. Evidently, she too is feeling the pain of losing a companion. She still doesn't eat much, drinks less, and sits at the same place for long hours without moving. Her cage has been changed, room changed, feeding timings changed…. In short, she has been given a completely new environment so that she can focus on what's new
and not concentrate on what's missing.
A latter visit to another Vet, who has had past experience of dealing with Guinean Pigs, revealed that it, was the medication which killed Romi. Amoxylin, an antibiotic, is the most lethal drug you can possibly give to your cavy (we didn't knew this. Most of the first time Cavy-owners don't) and those Vet who don't normally deal with these angels often, unsuspectingly, recommend these drugs for them. Juliet survived. It's luck. She's recuperating now, being administered another medicine to counter the effects of the deadly antibiotic. Was this the reason they weren't taking amoxylin easily and struggled a lot? I wish, we wish, we had known.
The knowledge that possible they weren't suffering from any disease of any kind, that no medicine was needed, that they were always healthy, and that Romi died because of carelessness will always bother us. Her innocent face, wheeking and looking at me hopefully forever etched on my mind. Juliet will soon get another companion, provided she recovers from the devastating effects of the antibiotic, but the void created by Romi's demise shall never be filled. Again.
"Death is the hardest thing,
Not for those who have passed,
But for those who are left behind."
"And now I know,
How much I'll miss you… the sight of your frail,
Limp body, placed in front of my eyes."
 |
| Romi (the smaller of the two) seen here with Juliet, her partner in crime. |
R.I.P ROMI.
You'll never be forgotten.
